Temperance-Self Restraint
by Savvy Sammy-13
Summary: The word Temperance means self restraint, but it is also the name of a young woman trapped in sad and terrible circumstances. She crosses paths with Col. William Tavington. Will her circumstances get better or worse?
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is the first Patriot story I've ever attempted. I hope you take the time to read this, considering the fact that there's already a ton of Tavington fics. Reviews and honest opinions are always welcome! I usually write fics on The Walking Dead, but I watched The Patriot and kinda became obsessed with Tavington. _

_-I don't own anything about The Patriot, so this is my disclaimer._

Temperance slowly opened her eyes. The early morning sunlight was pouring through the thin, homemade curtains covering the window to the right of the bed.

She gently brought the quilt back up to cover her bare chest, careful not to bump her husband's arm that was wrapped part-way around her waist. The uncomfortable young woman wanted to scoot from underneath his grasp and roll herself off of the edge of the bed, but she didn't want to wake him. Instead of making her escape, she laid back and stared at the curtains and the knotholes in the wall. Her brown waves cascaded over the flat pillow and around her neck, falling over her bare shoulders.

Temperance studied the thin blue curtains. They had been hanging in her father's home before he'd died. Temperance smiled slightly as she remembered the stories that her father had told of her mother's sewing skills. She missed her father greatly, and wished that she would have had the chance to miss her mother.

Her father had always described her mother in vivid and praising ways, allowing a picture to form in her young mind. Based on the descriptions, Temperance imagined her as a beautiful woman, full of life with a smile always present on her face. Her eyes were brown, and so was her hair. Temperance's father had always told her that she was nearly a mirror image of her mother, the woman he'd only been able to be married to for a short while before she was taken from him.

Miles took a deep breath and Temperance took a nervous glance to his side of the bed before she allowed her eyes to roam back to the curtains and wall. His sudden movement pushed all of the memories from her mind and she slowed her breathing out of fear that she would wake him. His arm rose and fell with her body as she took in and let out each breath.

Temperance let her hand fall back to the bed beside her pillow. Her eyes numbly studied the bruises on the underside of her wrist. The light purple finger shaped bruises brought a tinge of emotion coursing through her tired body, reminding her of the night before. The purple was beginning to turn a dark green, only making her small wrist look even worse.

Temperance stretched one of her stiff legs gently and then the other. Her muscles were tense and her body ached. Miles was not gentle and had never been, not even when their marriage was consummated. He was her first, and knew, but he held nothing back. He never did. Miles took everything out on her body.

The night of their wedding, Temperance felt as if the world collapsed around her. All thoughts and ideas of a wonderful marriage left her mind, replaced by a newfound fear of Miles's rough actions. He wasn't the man that she'd thought he was. He wasn't the man that anyone thought he was.

Miles's hand slowly slid off of her waist and the bed creaked as he moved. Temperance froze. Her breath caught in her throat as he let out an aggravated, sleep-affected groan. She squinted her eyes shut as his arm wrapped around her once again, but tighter this time, pulling her bare back to press against his equally bare chest and stomach. Miles's warm breath met her ear. Anxiety rippled through her body and a chill traveled down her spine, despite the warmness of the room.

Temperance took the opportunity of his shift in position to squirm and change her own position. She gently tried to ease out of his grasp, but his grip tightened.

"I'm about to get up, Miles," she said quickly, but softly.

Her eyes scanned the wall as she awaited his answer. She laid there on pins and needles, awaiting his response. As each silent moment passed, so did her courage.

"Why?" he grumbled gruffly.

Temperance licked her lips, using her tongue to feel a sore spot on her bottom lip. The area tingled with a dull pain. It was where Miles had bit her. It wasn't the first time, but Temperance found it difficult to deal with all the same.

"To make something to eat," she finally murmured softly.

Miles arm slowly retracted, and he released her. Temperance knew that any other reason, and he would have objected.

* * *

Temperance's fingers trailed along the dried cornstalk leaves as she walked along the garden rows. The kernels in the corn hadn't filled out as they should have done, but they weren't the only one of their crops that weren't living up to expectations.

An orange glow was being cast upon the yard by the rising sun and the birds were chirping in the trees. She took the chance to take in the serene surroundings while she could. Temperance lifted her head to the very tops of the trees as she watched the birds fly. They fluttered carelessly, allowing their light bodies to dip and then regain height, ascending right back to the light, wispy clouds.

She brought her hands back down to the white apron that she'd slipped on over her simple white and blue-flowered dress and wiped the dirt from them.

Temperance tilted her head back to watch a little flock of birds, letting her brown hair trail down her back. The bonnet that usually kept her hair up and hidden sat on top of the brown waves today, allowing the waves to fall freely, much like the birds she focused on. Upon looking in the small mirror in the house, she'd realized the extent of Miles's marks left on her body. Her neck held evidence of her husband's harsh nips. All that Temperance could do was cover them with her long hair. She knew that she would be avoiding the town for a while once again. It was what she had to do from time to time, out of fear that her wounds and bruises would be seen. Someone else's knowledge of them would do nothing to help her or make Miles stop. It would only cause her embarrassment. Temperance was already embarrassed of her position. It wasn't something she ever thought would happen to her. She'd turned down suitors for years before Miles had come into her life, not even caring about marriage.

Temperance vowed to herself that she would take care of her father as long as she could, so she turned down man after man who asked for her hand. Her father had needed her, even though he had told her he wanted her to get married. He had wanted her to be happy, but she wanted _him_ to be happy. She knew that he would never marry again. He'd told her that her mother was irreplaceable. Temperance never told her father about the guilt she carried. She'd come to the realization that it was her fault that her mother had died.

Temperance's eyes brimmed with tears quickly at the thoughts of her father, mother, and all of the chances at wonderful marriage she had turned down. Many of the young men had moved on to marry other girls and both parties in marriage were living happily. Temperance longed to know what that felt like. It was her own fault, she knew. She'd robbed herself of being able to enjoy the feeling of true happiness in marriage. She'd waited until after her father had passed to accept Miles's hand. At the time, he'd seemed perfect. Now, she realized her mistake.

Temperance tried to push the thoughts away from her mind. She looked away from the carefree birds and back to the ground. The basket of eggs that she'd collected sat a few feet away. It wasn't many, but it was enough to cook Miles breakfast.

Their small farm was just beginning. They had a few cows, chickens, and a horse. They had small patches of crops that had been planted a little later than normal, and Temperance assumed that was the reason that they were faltering.

The two of them had only been married for months, but to Temperance, it felt like years.

"Marriage isn't supposed to feel like this," Temperance whispered softly.

The wind blew a slightly chilly breeze, ruffling her hair, and making the brown, dried leaves of the cornstalks rub against each other. The whisper caused by the slight friction between the dry leaves was the only response she received.

Her eyes roamed around the pastures surrounding the small wooden home. There was plenty of room for the farm to grow, and she knew that the idea was in Miles's plans.

Miles had bought the small house as soon as he'd asked for her hand in marriage. It had been a young man's house, well more like his father's. The man's father had just died, and the young son had bigger and better plans than settling into the home that his father had owned.

Temperance remembered how eager Miles had been to move in. They'd planned their date to be married, with much help from her best friend, Anne Howard and family, and Miles had moved in to ready it and plant the crops before they were even legally united. It had all seemed perfect at the time.

"Temperance!"

Temperance turned back to face the house. Her heart leapt in her chest at the sound of his voice. Miles stood on the front porch. His arms were crossed across his chest.

Temperance immediately dropped her head and reached to pick up her long skirts and the basket of eggs. She quickly hurried out of the garden and into the grass.

"I was just checking the corn," she called out nervously.

"I thought you were cooking," he said coldly.

Temperance allowed her eyes to meet his. She slowed her pace when they were only a few feet away from each other.

Miles was handsome. His brown hair was tied back in a short ponytail and his face was slightly scruffy. At nearly thirty, he was her superior in more ways than just gender.

Temperance, who was a few months shy of twenty, had been completely enthralled with the idea that she'd caught the eye of a man who at the time of their marriage, seemed completely out of her league.

Miles's dark blue eyes locked coldly on hers, bringing her back to the present and troubling situation that she was now in.

"I know," Temperance said softly. "I'm going to cook now. I thought that you would still be in bed like usual."

She stepped onto the wooden porch steps and attempted to ease by him.

When his hand reached out and caught her slender, sleeve covered arm, she wasn't surprised.

Temperance flinched as his fingers dug into the bruises he'd made the night before. Miles tugged her small body back to face him.

She stared back into his eyes. She could smell the alcohol on his breath already, and the scent made a knot of dread form in the pit of her stomach. _There's no use arguing with him now, _Temperance thought sadly.

"You don't know your place woman! You think that you can just wander around the yard daydreamin' when there's work to be done? I don't even have time to eat now. I have to get to work out there in the damn hot fields, working my ass off to provide for you and you can't even cook? You get sidetracked collecting eggs? When our children are starving to death…"

"I'm sorry," the words tumbled from Temperance's mouth. She acted as if she really took his cold statement to heart, but inside she was picking his words apart.

Miles worked hard, but only when _he_ wanted too. Alcohol took up a great amount of his time. It made him angry, unpredictable, and brutal.

"I didn't know your family," Miles growled. "I guess I should have looked into your family a bit more. I saw you as a pretty, unfortunate woman. I didn't see you as what you actually are."

Temperance's eyes dropped to the wooden steps. His words were sharp. They cut into her as if they were a knife. In all honesty, she hadn't known his family either. He was new in town, but seemed like a promising young man at the time.

"I guess that growing up in a motherless home did that to you. Your father was absolutely stupid to not get remarried. He had no right to raise you this way on his own. He robbed you of the ability to be an obedient wife. You didn't learn your place," Miles pointed his finger at her. "You didn't see what a wife's duties are. Your father spoiled you."

Temperance's mouth slowly dropped open, but she clenched her jaws at Miles's cold words_. _

_He hadn't been telling me that last night as he enjoyed the wifely duties I was forced by him to act upon, _she thought angrily.

Temperance knew that she wasn't at fault. There was no possible way that she could be. She did everything for him, but he always demanded more. Miles became especially brutal and rough after he drank. He was beginning to do that more often than not.

"And the Howard's. Staying with them was the last thing you needed. They obviously did not help you in any way. They spoiled you just as badly because they felt sorry for you. A poor pretty thing who's mother died in childbirth also lost her father, oh Peter Howard had to take you in then. I understand that, but they didn't have to let you wander through those years without a care, without a single responsibility!"

Temperance swallowed hard. She would have given anything to be back in the gentle, loving home of her best friend Anne, and her caring parents. The Howard's had taken her in quickly after her father's difficult passing that left her without a single living relative.

"Was I the only one stupid enough to not see passed your beauty Temperance? You're a trick to the eye. I thought that I was lucky to have you choose me over the other bachelors who's attention you'd attracted. To have a woman of your caliber bare and raise my children…"

Temperance stayed silent, taking Miles's verbal abuse. Finding herself in this position was nothing like she imagined marriage to be, especially when she'd decided to take the hand of respectable, polite, handsome, and educated Miles Turner.

"You're going to learn your place and your responsibility," Miles gritted through his teeth.

Temperance shuddered slightly. She didn't want to bare his children. Living with him and enduring his abuse was one thing, but the thought of a child having to endure Miles's quick changes of attitude and harsh punishments made her stomach lurch.

"If your father was still alive I would tell him how stupid he was for allowing you to grow up so irresponsible and lacking in your duties. If I only could have met him I would have-"

"My father did what was best for me!" Temperance interrupted him quickly. There was a slight pinch of anger audible in her voice, but also a small ounce of control. She tried not to raise her voice, knowing what angering Miles always got her, but his attacks on her dear dead father pushed her over the edge.

"My father was not stupid. He did not spoil me!" She continued. "I did my share of duties in our home and also in the Howard's-"

Miles hand caught the side of her face. The sound of his palm against her face shocked her nearly as much as the sharp pain did. A sharp gasp left her mouth and she recoiled, stumbling back slightly. She dropped the basket of eggs, but their fall wasn't far. They rolled in the bottom of the basket as it landed on the ground. Luckily it didn't tip over.

Just as soon as she'd regained a small amount of composure, Miles's rough hand grabbed her face. His thumb pressed into one of her cheeks, and his other fingers pressed into the other side. He shoved her back against the wooden post of the porch. The sharp edge of the wood dug into her back.

He moved quickly to press his body to hers, and in the process, kicked the basket of eggs over.

"Look what you did!" Miles snapped.

They rolled down the crudely built wooden steps and broke, spilling their contents in the grainy wood.

Temperance recoiled again as his hand came in contact with her face again.

A shriek escaped her throat.

He grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her body away from the post.

"I…I didn't do it," she stammered.

He shook her shoulders roughly, making her back jam back into the wooden post.

"Stop it!" she pleaded.

It was all she could do, so she begged, although it rarely helped her.

"Please," she tried.

Her pleads made his harsh shaking cease for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Temperance whispered weakly.

Miles scrunched his face as he gritted his teeth in anger. He shook her one more, hard, time.

"I am… I'm sorry," she tried again. The desperation was evident in her voice. "You're right. It's my fault."

Saying those words nearly ripped her apart. Admitting to a wrong that she never committed was difficult, but necessary.

Miles stopped shaking her shoulders, but kept his grip on them tight. His face relaxed a little. Slowly, his demeanor seemed to change.

Temperance felt her lips quiver and she bit down on her bottom lip, trying her hardest to make it stop.

"Why do you make me do this?" Miles whispered softly.

His dark blue eyes searched her green ones.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again. A tear slipped from her eye and trailed down her cheek, but she didn't wipe it away.

"Why?" he asked again. "You keep making me."

Miles released her shoulders and brought his rough hand up to her cheek. She cringed as he wiped the lone tear away.

His now gentle behavior struck a chord within her, only making a few more tears fall. His affection after treating her so badly sickened her.

"You're so beautiful," Miles murmured.

She hung her head as shame overcame her. Her face stung from his harsh blows, her back was sore from being pressing in to the sharp wooden post, and the painful lump in her throat still had not gone away. A sob threatened to erupt from her throat, but she swallowed it down.

Miles's hand trailed to her chin and slipped underneath it. He tilted her face up to meet his mouth.

Temperance squeezed her eyes tightly. His warm lips caressed hers, and his tongue toyed gently with her lips as he silently begged her to open them. She kept her lips closed, but still tasted the taste of alcohol that came from his.

Miles's movements became desperate as he kissed her harder. She winced as the roughness brought back the soreness already on her lips from his earlier attacks. Temperance instinctively turned her head and wrenched her mouth from his.

An aggravated groan escaped Mile's mouth. She kept her eyes closed, and received exactly what she was expecting. He hit her again, this time her mouth.

She didn't shriek or cry out in pain. Temperance took it quietly and didn't open her eyes until he grabbed her arm roughly and shoved her in the direction of the wooden steps.

She stumbled down the stairs and fell into the dirt. Her knees stung with the sharp contact through the thin material of her dress.

Temperance sat still and focused her eyes to the ground, resting on her knees and the palms of her hands. Defeat and hopelessness washed over her. With the intense emotions and the harsh blows she'd received, the ground seemed to tilt beneath her. It was all dizzying as she gasped in a few painful breaths. Tears were threatening her eyes, making them sting, and the sob she'd been trying to hold back, erupted from her throat weakly.

Her face burned from her earlier punishment, but her mouth hurt even worse. Her pride wasn't just wounded, it was nonexistent.

The focus she held on the dusty dirt beneath her blurred with the desperate formation of her tears, but Temperance did not lift her head. She could see Miles still standing on the porch out of the corner of her eye, but she wouldn't allow herself to look up at him.

She stared at the ground until a horse's whinny brought her eyes back up and to the woods. She held her breath as another whinny followed the first. Then the sound of thundering hooves became audible. Her eyes were focused on the bend of the road when the first brown horse rounded the corner. It was followed by a few more, following close behind the first.

To Temperance's horror, the riders were wearing red uniforms. As they gained ground, quickly approaching on the dusty road, she saw the green material.

"The Green Dragoons," Temperance choked out weakly.

"Get up!" Miles ordered. "Get off the ground!"

_Pretty Please Review guys!_


	2. Chapter 2

Temperance rose uneasily to her feet.

"What do they want?" she stammered.

She moved closer to the porch, but still kept a slight space between her and her abusive husband.

"Just keep your mouth shut," Miles ordered.

His hands were clenched in nervous fists at his sides but he seemed to have recovered from his angry outburst only seconds before.

"These Green Dragoons are the men that killed one of the Martin boys weeks ago. I heard about it when I was in town," Temperance continued. She blurted the words out quickly, attempting to get them out before the thundering of the hooves stopped.

"Well don't speak," Miles snapped. "They'll leave."

Temperance straightened her dress and tried to dust away the dirt that clung to her white apron.

Miles walked down the porch steps and stepped into the dirt that she'd fallen in. He moved closer to her as the horses slowed their pace. Temperance fought the instinct to move farther from him. She didn't want Miles near her, but the fear of the Dragoons outweighed her anger and fear of her husband.

The first Dragoon held his gloved hand up, signaling for the others to stop.

When they all stopped, the first rider sat on his horse only a few feet away. He wore a scowl that did not help Temperance's fear in the least.

She watched the man's eyes as they scanned the yard and pastures before he brought his gaze down to them.

"How many live here?" The man demanded.

"Two," Miles answered shortly.

"Your name?" The man asked.

"Miles Turner."

The man's icy eyes locked on Temperance's A chill traveled down her spine and she immediately diverted her gaze from the British man's powerful one. All of the pain from Miles's punishment disappeared, immediately replaced with the fear of the Green Dragoons.

They were to be feared. Stories of their brutal deeds and heartless actions traveled through the town like wildfire, consuming everyone and filling everyone with the rightly acclaimed right to fear the men.

"This is your daughter?" The Green Dragoon asked.

"My wife!" Miles growled. She flinched at his tone. It was sharp and gruff, always turning that way in less than a second.

Her heart fluttered at the acknowledgement that was given to her by the Dragoon. Temperance wanted to disappear. She wanted the earth to swallow her up right where she stood.

"Colonel Tavington," one of the other Dragoons began.

He held his hand up to silence the officer.

_Tavington_? The word hung in Temperance's mind. At the mention of the man's name, she stiffened. She was staring face to face with the butcher, the very man who'd killed Thomas Martin.

Tavington squinted at her. He tilted his head slowly as if he was studying her. The air between them thickened with tension and she fought to maintain a calm exterior. She could practically feel his blue eyes as they lingered on her. To break his intense gaze from hers, she tilted her chin to the ground.

"What's her name Mr. Turner?" he asked.

"That's none of your business!" Miles snapped.

"My business is whatever I say it is!" Tavington stated coldly.

His tone that had already been sharp, became even colder.

Temperance raised her head at his sudden outburst and watched in shock as Tavington's hand dropped to his side. In less than a second, he brought a pistol up and cocked it, pointing it right at Miles.

Miles froze. His mouth was half-open and his eyes were wide. He nervously held both of his hands up.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed nervously. "There's no need-"

"Move over there Mr. Turner," Tavington ordered coldly. "Away from her."

Miles took a nervous glance Temperance's way before he took a few sidesteps away from her in the direction that the Dragoon had nodded.

"If you want to live I suggest that you-"

"T…Temperance," she stammered quickly, interrupting the man. "My name is Temperance." Her voice shook and she fought to maintain eye contact with the threatening man.

Tavington lowered the pistol from her husband and turned his focused stare onto her once again.

"Temperance," he repeated. "Meaning self restraint?" he asked. "Ah that seems fitting. You look as if you don't fight back."

The Dragoon retired his pistol.

A nervous cough was emitted from one of the other Dragoons, breaking the nervous silence that had fallen around them.

"What's happened here?" Tavington asked. He waved his hand to the porch where the basket of eggs lay scattered and broken, oozing their contents onto the grainy wood.

"I hope there is no disloyalty to the king," He raised his eyebrows. "Going on here. You see, we are…" Tavington clasped his hands together. "We are looking for information about the militia. You would not know anything about that, would you Mr. Turner?" Tavington raised his eyebrows and a smirk formed on his face as he stared back at Miles.

"We are looking for a Mr. Benjamin Martin. I assume you know him considering that you and your _wife_," Tavington put a strange emphasis on the word, drawing her attention completely. "Live so close to the town that is assisting him hmmm?"

"I was asked to join the militia but I declined," Miles stated sharply. "I have other matters to be concerned about."

"I see," Tavington said. His voice held an almost teasing tone and his smile grew wider.

"Your crops seem to be failing and your eggs are spilled on your crudely built porch…and your wife…" Tavington trailed off. "Well…she seems to be lacking proper care."

"I don't know much of the militia or their plans, if that is what you're after," Miles interrupted the menacing man.

"Do you agree that the militia is going against the king?"

"Yes," Miles spat immediately.

Temperance knew that he was lying. Miles supported them fully, he was just too weak to join them himself.

"Search his home and barn for any information Captain Wilkins! If anything is found-"

"These are not the rules of war!" Miles shouted. "We've given you no reason to suspect anything."

"The rules of war?" Tavington raised his voice. "Would you like a lesson in the rules of war sir? I assure you that your…_pretty young wife _would not."

Temperance looked back to Miles and then the colonel nervously. His words sent a numbing chill throughout her body. The colonel's finger was pointed harshly her way and his other hand was laying on his pistol attached to his hip.

"Your precious ghost does not follow the rules of war either," Tavington murmured. "So I see no reason to."

"Captain Wilkins, search the house," Tavington ordered again.

Temperance watched the other dragoon climb from his horse. He straightened his uniform and headed in the direction of the porch.

"Come closer…Temperance," Tavington murmured, tearing her eyes away from the other man and back to face Tavington.

Temperance nearly choked aloud at his order. His earlier threat was still fresh in her mind. She stared back at him with wide eyes.

When she didn't move, Tavington forced his horse to walk closer to her. The massive brown horse snorted, making her jump.

She looked up at Tavington. His head was held high. He looked down his nose at her as if she was no better than a dog or some or type of animal. Temperance fought to keep control of her fear, but kept reminding herself over and over again that this man was unpredictable. He'd killed a boy, just a little kid. There was nothing to keep him from doing the same to her.

The horse was so close to Temperance's body that she could smell the animal's sweat. She tried to focus on something, anything else as the Green Dragoon stared at her from his place atop the horse. All that she could hear, however, was the beating of her own heart. The birds that had been carelessly chirping in the trees were no longer audible, as if they had sought their own refuge.

"You're bleeding, Mrs. Turner," Tavington said almost teasingly.

Temperance's hand rose to meet her mouth. His words brought her back to the pain of Miles's blow. She dropped her eyes to the ground, overwhelmed with embarrassment and anguish over Miles's harsh treatment. The stinging and heat radiating from her bottom lip was immediately brought back to her knowledge.

A strangled gasp left her mouth as the colonel's hand caught her wrist when she attempted to lower it. He jerked her body closer to his horse. All resistance left her body. She moved as if she weighed no more than a rag doll against his strong jerk.

"Hey!" Miles shouted, "What are you-" but his words trailed off as if he'd been stopped.

Temperance's frightened, wide eyes met the Green Dragoon's cold blue ones.

She couldn't look back to Miles. Tavington had completely seized her attention and constricted her breath with his cold stare.

His icy blue eyes trailed down to her slender wrist, completely covered by his large hand. Both of their eyes met the slight bruising caused by the ruffle of her sleeve at the same time.

Tavington forced her sleeve up, revealing the bruises before Temperance could even react.

"What is this?" he looked up at her slowly.

"What are you doing sir?" The closest Green Dragoon demanded.

"Borden," Tavington said warningly.

Temperance dropped her eyes to the finger shaped bruises. The first purple and red shapes had taken on a green tinge. By now, the discolored area had taken on a much larger manifestation.

"The other wrist too I imagine," Colonel Tavington stated coldly.

Temperance stared back at him, completely dumbfounded, but also queasy.

_He knows_, Temperance thought angrily. _He's doing this on purpose. He's just humiliating me._

"What do you think that you're doing?" Miles shouted. "This has nothing to do with the war. She's my wife."

Tavington's face broke into a slight smile as he looked back to Miles. One of the other Dragoons had positioned his horse threateningly in between Tavington's horse and Miles as if he was trying to keep she and Miles away from each other.

"I assume they're on the other wrist also," his eyes flashed back to hers.

Temperance swallowed hard.

"And your hair is down why?" he asked.

Temperance furrowed her eyebrows. The man's other hand reached down and flicked a wave of her brown hair. She cringed at the slight contact and the man laughed slightly. It sounded like a forced laugh, but it still sickened her.

"What are you hiding there?" Tavington's eyes flashed back at her.

She stared back at him, unable to conjure any words in her mind. Her legs shook and she fought to remain standing.

"I asked you a question, Mrs. Turner," he said coldly.

"Noth…nothing…sir," she stammered.

The smirk once again returned on the man's face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Not many colonial women wear their hair down in this manner, Mrs. Turner," he drawled in his accent, drawling out her name.

"But I can also say that not all of them are as breathtaking as you are either."

Humiliation burned on Temperance's cheeks. She closed her eyes tightly.

"Are you afraid of him…_Mrs. Turner_?"

"What?" She choked out.

"Sir," he corrected her coldly. "I think that you meant _what sir_,"

"Sir," she murmured weakly.

"Your husband. That man right over there."

"No…no, sir," she responded quickly.

Tavington scraped his teeth over his bottom lip.

"Well are you afraid of me?"

"Should I be?" she asked weakly.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them.

The smile formed on his mouth again.

"You tell me," he said.

"No?" she asked unsurely.

"What?" he snapped. "No what?"

"No Sir…I don't think that I should fear you," her words sounded anything but confident.

"You are lying. You're quivering and trembling in my very grasp. So why do you fear me and not your husband who gave you these?" Tavington's grip tightened on her sore wrist, making her wince slightly.

Temperance swallowed hard before she answered.

"Stories…just stories s…s…Sir."

"Stories?" he repeated.

"Rumors if you will," Temperance blurted out. "They're probably just rumors colonel."

Tavington laughed. "Rumors? They're not rumors my dear."

Panic constricted Temperance's chest. Her chest ached from the breath she held.

When he suddenly released her hand, Temperance took a few quick, stumbling steps back.

Tavington's intense eyes left her trembling body. His back went back rigid and straight, as he sat tall on the massive brown horse.

The other Dragoons watched him. Some of them looked confused, but they all seemed to be waiting for his orders.

Temperance watched him with the same nervousness.

"There was nothing of interest colonel," Captain Wilkins shouted as he hurried back down the porch steps.

"Shame," Tavington muttered.

"Now what?" Borden asked.

"Kill him," the words left Tavington's mouth sharply.

Temperance's heart leapt into her throat. She looked to Miles, who's eyes were now wide. His face was contorted into a look of sheer panic and shock.

"For what reason?" Borden exploded. "You can't kill a man for laying a hand on his wife."

"Treason," Tavington said simply.

"But it's not treason," the man continued.

Tavington smiled once again. His eyes met Temperance's.

"You don't know that," He said.

"And what about General Cornwallis?" Borden asked.

"This man is withholding valuable information about the ghost's whereabouts. That is what General Cornwallis will be notified of," Tavington said.

"So we burn the house?" Another Green Dragoon asked.

"No. Don't burn the house," Tavington said quickly.

"The girl?" Borden asked frantically.

"Leave her," Tavington snapped.

Temperance stared back at the man. He maintained eye contact with her as he slipped his hand down and retrieved his pistol.

Before Miles could even react, Tavington raised his pistol and fired. Temperance didn't move. A groan of pain and surprise left Miles's mouth. She stood rooted to the ground as her husband's body went rigid. For a split second, his eyes were wide and his mouth was formed in an O. One of his hands reached up and gripped his chest where the bullet had ripped through the cloth of his shirt as his knees buckled under his weight. He fell forward, landing on his knees before collapsing face first into the dirt.

"Colonel!" The Borden shouted quickly.

Temperance's mouth fell open was again. The gun shot and the other Dragoon's yell echoed around them as time seemed to stand still. Miles's crumpled form laid sprawled face first. Her eyes frantically searched for any sign of movement, but there was none. A burning ache in her throat made her wonder if she'd screamed or not. It had all happened so quickly that she couldn't even remember.

"What Borden?" Tavington snapped angrily.

"I don't think General Cornwallis had this in mind."

"I don't care,'" Tavington snapped. "Now go get that horse grazing in the field over there Borden, and tie it to yours. We're taking it with us."

"Keep it up sir and you'll soon have another nickname other than the butcher you know. Next you'll be the widow maker," A man's voice broke Temperance's numb concentration on her fallen husband.

She turned back as Borden climbed from his horse. His eyes met hers before he walked passed her and toward the small pasture where Mile's horse stood.

It was brown, but its mane and tail were a blonde color. It allowed Borden to easily take it's reins and lead it out of the pasture.

Temperance's breathing quickened as she looked around her.

_Miles is dead. I'm all alone,_ she thought frantically. _All alone with these men, and Tavington is in complete control._

When Temperance slowly turned her head back, she realized that Tavington was studying her once again.

Her stomach churned, not so much for him killing Miles, but for herself. She glanced around nervously, trying to find an escape from the butcher's hungry gaze. She caught the eyes of a few of the other Dragoons, and nervously searched their faces.

"Better luck next time _Mrs. Turner_. Choose your husband more wisely next time will you?" Tavington snapped.

"You k…k…killed him," she stammered.

"I did," Tavington said. "So on the terms of the repayment you now owe me…"

Temperance clenched her jaws tightly.

"What?" She shrieked. Her voice shook.

"Colonel you don't have time to-"

"Time to what?" Tavington interrupted Borden coldly. "Collect my repayment?"

Temperance let out a nervous and painful shriek. She turned and ran, unable to sit and bare the thought of what the colonel would want from her. She darted passed Miles's broken body and up the wooden steps, still slick with the broken eggs.

As she reached the door, she took a nervous glance back. Her knuckles turned white as her grip on the door tightened. She half expected Tavington or one of the men to be after her, ready to yank her back, but they weren't. They were all still positioned on their horses. Tavington wore a smug smile on his face. Although he didn't open his mouth, his facial expression and demeanor seemed to speak for him. His look seemed satisfied. Temperance knew as well as all of the Dragoons that Tavington could have caught up with her easily if he'd tried. The house would have given her no shelter. His strength could have easily overcome the thin, wooden door. She was already at his mercy.

Temperance paused slightly, ready to close the door behind her at the slightest movement or change in Tavington's position, but he didn't move.

"Horse is tied, Borden?" his voice made her breath once again catch in her throat.

"Yes sir," Borden answered quickly.

Tavington turned his horse without another word.

Temperance watched as the other Dragoons followed. Miles's horse trotted along beside of Borden's.

Temperance let out a shaky breath. It turned into a sob, but it wasn't of sadness. Maybe it was relief. She lowered her body to the wooden porch, shuddering violently. The thundering hooves slowly dissipated, leaving her sobs and shaky breaths echoing through the still air.

"Oh my God," she cried.

_What if they come back?_

As soon as the thought crossed Temperance's mind she climbed to her feet. Her eyes drifted to Miles's body and she slowly started down the porch steps.

"Miles?" she choked out.

She crept closer to Miles's body. A thick, scarlet stain was pooling out from underneath his body and staining the dry grass and dirt around him.

A strangled sound erupted from Temperance's dry throat. It started out as a sob but turned into a disgusted gag.

"He's dead," she whispered weakly.

Miles was gone. The man who she never thought that she would escape from was now gone, killed at the hands of a man who seemed even more ruthless than he.

Temperance looked nervously back to the road and then glanced to the now empty pasture where Miles's horse had stood.

"What do I do?" she stammered aloud.

Fear consumed her completely. It was the fear of being totally and absolutely unsure of what to do. She had to get to town and tell of the colonel's deed, but what would she say?

_What if I run back into them on the road? _She thought frantically. _Was the Colonel serious about repayment or was he only kidding?_

The Colonel's suggestion of repayment sent another chill down her spine. How sick could he be?

"He knew," she murmured. "He knew that Miles…" she trailed off, remembering how the Colonel had noticed her bruises and bleeding lip right away. His sick smirk and cold blue eyes were still fresh in her mind.

"But why would he?" she choked out.

The butcher's decision to kill Miles only confused her more as she tried to comprehend it.

"Why would he spare me?" Temperance asked herself aloud. "Unless…he was coming back. He'll...he'll come back," she stammered.

Temperance knew that she had to get to town. She needed the safety that it held, but since she was left without a horse and a long distance that kept her from the safety, she broke into a run.

Her teary, red rimmed, green eyes focused on her destination, the woods, and she burst through the thick undergrowth. The road would be too risky. She would have to travel through the woods.


	3. Chapter 3

Temperance crashed through the thick undergrowth of the woods, spooking small flocks of birds. The sudden flap of their wings stopped her in her tracks, over and over again as they flocked to the safety of the high limbs. Temperance quickly stumbled back to the road, but kept herself along the edge where she could easily dart back into the safety and coverage of the thick brush.

The morning was still young. The sun was not yet in the middle of the sky, but Temperance already felt as if the day should be over. Her mind was riddled with anticipation of the Dragoons and worry of what she would tell when she made it to the town.

The sound of the gunshot and images of Miles's bloodied form lying in the dirt flashed through her mind.

She tried not to think of him, trying instead to avoid the briars that pulled and tore at the skirt of her dress, slowing her down and unnerving her.

She strained her ears for the sounds of thundering of hooves that could signal the Dragoons.

'_Now on the terms of my repayment,' _Colonel Tavington's cold words rang through Temperance's mind.

"Ugh!" She stopped to wrench her skirts away from a briar vine.

"Please God give me the strength," She said aloud. "I know that I'm undeserving."

Just as she undid the cloth from the briar's grasp, a crow cawed overhead, taking her attention for a short while.

Temperance took a deep breath and winced at the pain in her side. She closed her eyes briefly and tried to pray a quick, silent prayer. It had been a long time since she'd tried. She'd prayed to God at first, asking for the strength to endure Miles or praying that God would help her when she first realized what kind of man she had married. That had been months ago.

Temperance abruptly stopped praying and started walking again.

"I'm a widow," she was slightly surprised when she spoke the words she was thinking out loud. "Not quite twenty and I'm a widow."

The thought, which for any other woman, would have evoked feelings of heart wrenching pain, gave Temperance a strange calm feeling. No longer would she have to endure Miles's harsh treatment and strong hand, go to bed with him every night, or cook and clean for him. Colonel Tavington killed him for what seemed to be no apparent reason, but did the colonel need a reason? Temperance knew that he had killed one of the young Martin boys. He was known for his brutal tactics.

Temperance regained courage the longer she walked. Her running gait slowed to a walk, and she allowed herself to walk on the road. By the time the little village was in sight, she had rehearsed and rehearsed what she would say and how she would explain the events that had unfolded in the early morning light. What she hadn't even thought of, however, were the marks she bore from Miles's morning temper flare.

Temperance's eyes scanned the little white houses and picket fences, finally feeling a sort of safety. The little village was a sight for sore eyes. A sight that she hadn't been able to find comfort in for months. Miles had always made trips in, but he did not like her to go often. When she was given the opportunity on rare occasions, sometimes she found herself staying home to hide bruises.

Temperance stopped and breathed deeply. The flowering shrubs around her sweetened the air, and the smell was gently carried by the breeze. It gently blew her brown hair away from her neck. Temperance immediately tugged her waves back to cover the marks she knew tainted her skin. Her uncertainty flared, making her pause for a little longer as she contemplated what everyone's reactions would be to her recollection of the events that had befallen in the stillness of the early morning.

Temperance walked down the small, main street; looking about nervously. She felt as if everyone was watching her and judging her, when in reality, there was no one wandering around.

The sound of cheerful hymns sang by the townspeople radiated from the little white church. The notes seemed to swirl with the breeze, enveloping the entire town in the usual Sunday morning feel.

_What do I do?_ Temperance paused by the church. _They need to be told that the dragoons are about and mercilessly killing._

"God please help me," Temperance whispered as a shaky breath left her body.

She clumsily wiped her clammy palms on her dress skirts as she stared nervously at the closed church doors.

What was everyone going to say when she told them what had become of Miles?

He had no relatives in the town, only friends. In the short time that he had been there, he'd quickly gained the trust of almost everyone. The only one of his relatives that she had met was his brother. His brother was younger than he had been, and only visited for a short while to meet her before their marriage.

Temperance lowered her tired body to the steps of the Howard's homey, white, house. She listened as the voices continued to sing. Their hymns could not even lift her spirits.

When people began bustling back down the streets, Temperance lowered her head. She rubbed the thin material of her dirty, slightly torn dress between her fingers, doing absolutely anything to keep herself busy.

Happy laughter and cheerful voices broke through the air as people scattered.

"Temperance?"

Temperance raised her head. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as her eyes met Anne's father's.

"What's the matter?" Mr. Howard's eyes widened. He shifted his weight on his cane.

Temperance choked on her words and her mind was enveloped in a nervous panic. Where were all of the careful words and explanations that she'd thought of on the way? She stared back at him as she frantically tried to conjure up any explanation. Instead, she found herself merely staring at him. Mr. Howard's hair looked much grayer than when she'd seen him last. It hadn't been that long that she'd been avoiding or ordered not to visit the quaint little town, but he already looked older. She'd only been living out at Miles's farm for a few months. The separation of her and the Howard family had been hard to deal with, especially when day to day life living with Miles was so difficult.

"I didn't know what to do, or where to go," Temperance finally murmured weakly.

"You're hurt? What?" He stuttered on his own words and then looked behind him for others who were strolling down the streets.

Temperance glanced from him to a few of the other townspeople. She recognized them, and they recognized her. A few stared, but most of them stopped in their tracks. Their faces were full of concern, and Temperance lowered her head once again.

"What's happened to you?" Mr. Howard demanded. "Come. Come inside," he motioned for her to climb to her feet, and Temperance did.

She tried to ease her still shocked and nervous body up off of the steps and in front of Anne's father as he gently pushed her into the house.

Temperance crossed her arms across her chest and stood awkwardly as she watched Mr. Howard close the door back behind him. She allowed her eyes to flutter around the familiar room, studying the homey decorations that were lovingly made by Anne or her mother.

"Someone has hurt you? Where's Miles? Here sit down," Mr. Howard pulled one of the wooden kitchen chairs out from underneath the table and motioned for her to sit.

"The Green Dragoons," Temperance murmured weakly as she lowered her body to the chair. "They're back and looking for Mr. Martin," she explained as soon as their eyes met.

Mr. Howard's jaws tightened he squinted back at her.

"They killed him. The butcher did." Temperance blurted out simply.

* * *

"And he did this to you?" Peter Howard roared. "The Dragoons have absolutely-

"No-" Temperance blurted out. "He…," but she trailed off, unable to project her voice over Mr. Howard's angry one.

"Those men!" he continued. "That man. That sorry excuse for a-"

Temperance's thoughts raced so quickly that she stopped listening to Anne's father. How was she supposed to explain that Miles had been the one hurting her and that the marks she bore were not from the Green Dragoon that had killed her husband?

"He forced himself on you?" Mrs. Howard asked nervously.

"No! He did not." Temperance said quickly. She looked toward Anne's small framed mother. Her face was twisted into a look of panic. It had been that way since she and Anne had both walked into the house and joined into the middle of Temperance's explanations.

Anne was still standing motionless in the corner of the room. Her hand was pressed delicately to her mouth, covering the shocked expression she held.

"Well who was it?" Mr. Howard demanded weakly.

"Peter she doesn't want to talk about it-" Mrs. Howard interrupted sternly. "Don't make her-"

Temperance opened her mouth but stopped. She studied the worried and pain expressions of the family around her.

_It was Miles! _She screamed inside her mind._ Colonel Tavington only killed Miles. He did not touch me. He did not rape me._

As much as she wanted to explain everything, she didn't. Temperance lowered her head. It was so simple and the perfect time. If only she could just say it. If only she could just say that Miles had been laying his hands on her and keeping her prisoner in their little house, then nothing would be misunderstood.

"It was him. It was Tavington, that butcher," Mr. Howard stated.

A strange chill traveled down Temperance's spine.

"Don't worry about me," Temperance finally spoke up. "I'm fine, but Miles is dead and the dragoons are looking for the militia again. I thought that the town should at least know."

Silence fell around the four of them. Temperance could not bring herself to look into the pained expressions of Mr. or Mrs. Howard. She lowered her eyes to her slightly torn and dirty dress. It made sense, why they thought that she'd been attacked by the colonel. She was disheveled, looking as if she'd been rolling in the dirt, and as she licked her bottom lip, she remembered how badly her face must look. The colonel had pointed out her bruised and broken face.

"Come with me Temp," Anne suggested carefully.

Temperance slowly raised her eyes to meet Anne's.

"I'll help you wash up."

Temperance let out an uneasy breath. When she didn't get up, Anne walked over and gently grasped her hand from her lap. Temperance allowed Anne to lead her out of the room, passed her parents, and to her own room.

Temperance sat on the edge of Anne's bed as she waited for her friend to fetch the basin of water and cloth that she'd gone after.

Her eyes trailed along the furniture of Anne's room, remembering that just a few short months ago they'd shared the room. The two of them, already friends before Temperance was left alone in the world, grew even closer after Temperance moved in.

_What would Father say? _Temperance shuddered at the thought.

What would he say if he knew that she'd found herself in such a terrible situation.

She found it hard to delve into her own thoughts, finding herself not at all distressed over Miles's death, but more of the situation of what she would tell everyone.

What had happened to the strong girl who had taken care of her father, dying of yellow fever, and then moved in with the Howard's? Now she was the girl afraid to tell of her dead husband's harsh actions and mistreating behaviors.

Anne did not speak as she reentered the room. She sat the water basin down on the bedside table and looked back up. Her hair that had been done up and perfected for the church service was now dangling where it had half fallen around her face.

"Why aren't you talking?" Temperance asked.

Anne was only quiet when she was deep in thought or worried. Temperance hated the painful look that crossed her friend's face. She hated that they all thought that she was the butcher's victim. Was it any worse than if she would have told them the truth though? If they knew that she'd allowed herself to become Miles's victim for so long because she was embarrassed and confused would it really be any better?

Anne took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

"Are you hurt badly?" she asked softly. She winced at her own words before Temperance could even answer.

"Only what you see," Temperance said quickly. She clenched her jaws at the thought of the colonel laying his hands on her. That was what Anne was thinking or imagining.

_It didn't happen,_ her mind screamed at her.

"He did not…The butcher did not force himself on me. He did not." Temperance shook her head quickly as she lowered her voice and scooted closer to her friend. She spoke the words quickly and more sternly than she had in the other room, unable to picture the assumed assault in her mind any longer.

She watched Anne turn from her and wring the warm water out of the cloth, tightly squeezing the material with her slender fingers.

"You can't lie Temperance. He did. You're covered with bruises and…" Anne turned back to face her. She was biting down on her bottom lip slightly as if holding in her own words.

Temperance fell silent long enough for Anne to gently dab the warm, wet cloth to her sore bottom lip.

"He will not get away it Temperance," Anne murmured softly. "My father and the militia will not allow it. He cannot attack civilians."

Temperance's shoulders sagged and her eyes dropped to the floor. She was completely drained, not even sure what she was feeling over Miles's death. It felt like a nightmare that she would soon wake from. His death hadn't necessarily affected her as much as the situation that now sat in front of her."I shouldn't have come here," Temperance stammered. "I shouldn't have involved you or your family."

"Temperance we _are_ family," Anne stated. "Look at me."

Anne tilted Temperance's chin slightly with the hand that held the warm cloth.

"This is not your fault."

"Anne," Temperance murmured weakly.

"You haven't even shed a tear, Temp," Anne murmured as she moved the cloth back into the warm water. "I know that you're strong, but you can't just keep everything in. I will be here for you. If you'll talk to me I'll listen. If you need to talk about anything that happened I can…," she trailed off.

Anne reached down and grasped Temperance's hand.

"I can listen Temp."

When Temperance looked back up at Anne she realized that Anne's eyes were no longer fixated on hers.

Temperance followed Anne's eyes to her wrist. The bruises that Miles had inflicted tainted her skin even darker than they'd seemed when Tavington had noticed them.

"Anne, you're my best friend. You've always been there for me," Temperance said softly.

"And I'm here for you now," Anne said quickly. "I cannot begin to fathom what you are going through. That man…"

"I haven't been honest with you for a long time," Temperance interrupted her.

Anne did not speak, and it gave Temperance the initiative to continue.

"It was not the Dragoon. It was not Tavington," Temperance murmured.

"Temperance," Anne interrupted softly. She let go of her hand and slipped her hands back into the warm water. "You don't have to protect him he cannot harm you any more no one will allow it to happen-"

"It was Miles. He hit me. He hurt me," Temperance said softly.

Anne furrowed her eyebrows. The wet cloth slipped from her fingers and landed with a plop back into the bowl of warm water.

Temperance diverted her gaze from her best friend's as she attempted to regain her courage.

"Miles Turner?" Anne asked softly. "What are you talking about? Why didn't you tell me before, or why didn't you tell father?"

Anne brought her hands out of the water and down to the skirt of her dress. She dried them off slowly, not breaking eye contact with her as she did.

"Anne," Temperance sputtered. "You don't understand-"

"No I don't understand!" Anne erupted. She threw her hands in the air.

"Calm down and I'll tell you," Temperance blurted out. "Just please be quiet."

Her eyes frantically darted to the opened doorway where she prayed that Anne's parents had not heard her explanation.

"There was nothing anyone could have done," Temperance said sadly. "I didn't know him as well as I should have. Maybe I shouldn't have accepted his marriage offer so soon. It was my fault."

"Miles did this to you?" Anne murmured.

She covered her mouth with her hand, still damp from the warm water.

"Why? When did he start doing this?"

"Not long after we got married," Temperance softly sighed.

"I don't understand. The butcher did not touch you?"

"No," Temperance shook her head slowly. She stared into Anne's confusing eyes, slightly regretting telling the truth because she knew that she would now have to explain so much more than she was ready and willing.

"I don't know why he killed Miles. He had no reason too. Miles attacked me just before the Dragoons came. The Colonel- I mean…The butcher just killed him."

"He killed him because he saw Miles hurt you?" Anne asked nervously.

Temperance stopped. "No. He didn't see him hurt me…but he did see my bruises."

"Why didn't he burn the house?" Anne murmured. "If they kill someone, they burn the houses too."

"I…I don't know." Temperance reached up to gently rub at her busted lip.

"Gabriel Martin!" Temperance and Anne both jumped at the sound of Mr. Howard's booming voice from the other room. "Where is your father?"

Anne leapt from the bed and crossed the room.

"What's he doing here?" Temperance asked quickly.

Her heart raced in her chest out of fear and knowledge that Mr. Howard would probably tell the young militia member.

"He's been visiting me," Anne whispered, but her eyes stayed focused on the opened doorway as she listened for further conversation between Gabriel and her father.

"He arrived just now with the rest of us," Gabriel answered. "Do you need to-"

"I need to see him," Mr. Howard roared.

"Calm down Peter," Mrs. Howard interrupted her husband.

"Is something wrong?" Gabriel asked quickly.

Anne reached out and gripped the doorframe as if she was trying to decide if she should exit the room and join the frantic conversation.

"No!" Temperance squeaked quietly, immediately taking Anne's attention from the doorway. "You can't tell."

"Father!" Gabriel Martin's voice sounded farther away.

Temperance's eyes darted to the small window looking out to the front of the house. Gabriel was hurrying back down the stone walk and toward a group of men. It all happened quickly. Gabriel led his father back into the house and the door slammed back behind them.

"Benjamin Martin! The Green Dragoons killed Miles Turner and attacked his wife," Mr. Howard exploded.

"What?" Benjamin asked.

"It was that Butcher. He's out of control."

Temperance's heart sank. She slowly let her gaze to drift to Anne's. Anne's eyes were wide, but she wasn't moving. She had never fully recovered from Temperance's earlier confession.

"Go talk to them," Anne murmured. "Tell them what you told me-"

"Shh," Temperance interrupted her.

"Recently?" Gabriel's voice interrupted.

"Yes!" Mr. Howard exploded.

"_Attacked _her?" Benjamin Martin demanded. "What…what did Miles do to anger them… I mean why?"

"He did nothing!" Mr. Howard sputtered. "That brute and his men are raping and pillaging their way across the countryside. No one is safe."

"Where is Temperance?" Benjamin Martin asked.

"Not in shape to talk anymore of this," Mr. Howard lowered his voice. "But someone has to ride out and see if they left anything or if her husband is…" he trailed off.

Temperance toyed her tongue along her sore bottom lip. She felt numb as she listened to the men's frantic voices.

"He will not get away with this," Mr. Howard gritted through his teeth. "I look at Temperance like my own daughter."

"I'll ride out to Miles's farm. We will," Benjamin Martin said.

"What are you going to do?" Anne whispered. She crossed the room and sat back down on the edge of her bed.

Temperance clenched her jaws tightly.

"I don't know," she murmured.

"We should have told them the truth. You should have. The Colonel shouldn't have killed Miles, but he…he…spared you," Anne spoke.

"And when I tell them that it wasn't the Colonel but my own husband who hurt me what will I look like?" Temperance hissed

Anne fell silent.

"It is embarrassing," Temperance continued. "Besides…The Colonel is dangerous. He was coming back."

"Coming back for what?" Anne asked quickly. Her eyes widened.

"He told me that I owed him a repayment for him killing Miles," Temperance said defensively. "I did not stick around to see what that repayment might have been. I didn't ask him to kill him. It was like a sick game that the colonel was playing. I wasn't sure what he would do next. He was threatening although he didn't force himself on me."

Temperance studied her friend's worried face.

"Promise me that you just won't say anything," Temperance whispered. "Not yet."

"They could very well come here," Anne said suddenly and fearfully.

"That's why I knew that the town needed to know," Temperance murmured.

_Thank you for those that reviewed. _


	4. Chapter 4

Reviews always motivate me. I appreciate each and every one. Please continue to leave some?

I apologize that Tavington has only been in one chapter so far. I promise that he is coming. When he comes, he comes. It will be soon.

_Temperance brushed her delicate fingers over the red, puffy mound that covered her right cheek. The candlelight flickered on the small, wooden table beneath the hanging mirror, making it difficult for her to study her face in the darkness. She shifted on her feet and leaned in closer to examine the mark that tainted her pale skin. A strange heat radiated from the welt._

_Temperance finally let her hands fall back to dangle beside her sides. She stared into her reflection's sad eyes. Tears threatened to spill from them, but she tried her best to contain the salty water. She brought her hands up to touch her braid that was tossed over her left shoulder._

'_He won't see me cry,' Temperance thought angrily._

_She swallowed the large lump that had grown painful in her throat._

"_What are you doing Temperance?"_

_Temperance gasped aloud. She took a step away from the mirror and studied Miles's reflection that now stood behind hers._

_Miles moved behind her and quickly wrapped his arms around her waist. Temperance did not struggle against him when she realized that his touch had grown a little softer than just moments ago when he'd lost his temper. He tugged her body closer to his as he clutched the thin material of her night gown in his calloused hands._

_Miles breathed in deeply and rested his face in the crook of her neck._

_Temperance remained limp, allowing him to hold her tightly. She watched their reflections interact as he pressed his lips to her neck. His brown hair tickled her jaw line, and she cringed slightly. The pain that radiated from her face grew stronger as her face became hot with shame._

_When he finally pulled his face away from her neck, she tried to soften her expression._

"_What?" he demanded sharply. "What is wrong with you?"_

"_You scared me. That's all," Temperance murmured softly._

"_I don't understand why you look in that mirror so damn much," he snapped. _

_He squinted back at her reflection angrily._

"_I don't understand why you hit me…again," Temperance avoided his reflection in front of her as she spoke the words quietly. _

"_Don't make me mad again. I don't want to be mad tonight."_

_Miles's remark was cold and sharp. Temperance knew that it was a warning she should take heed to._

_She looked back at his reflection anxiously, but his eyes were no longer on the mirror._

_Miles reached his arms around her waist again. He slid his hands down and palmed her smooth stomach with both of his hands. _

"_When do you think…"_

_Temperance dropped her eyes to the wooden floor. She didn't have to hear all of his question to know what he was speaking of._

"_I don't know," she said weakly._

_His fingers pressed a little deeper into the skin of her stomach._

"_You don't know at all?"_

"_No," Temperance said defensively. "It doesn't always happen quickly. For some it never happens. It can depend entirely on different things." _

_She blurted the words out urgently as if she was trying to stand up for herself and save herself the blame that she knew was coming._

"_Damn Temperance," Miles snapped. He removed his hands from around her and stepped to the side. "Henry married Rebecca months after us. She's already with child."_

"_I know," Temperance murmured softly. "I'm sorry but…," she trailed off and turned slightly to watch Miles angrily unbutton the shirt he was wearing._

"_I… want a son. Someone… to carry on our name," Miles spat out the words in between unbuttoning the buttons._

"_My mother had eight kids," he continued as he looked back at her. "Would've been nine if the last one woulda made it. And your mother had one. Well barely one."_

_Temperance shook her head. Miles always found a way to talk negatively about her or her family._

"_I bet your father wished you would have been a boy. Every father wants a son, and your mother left him to completely take care of you. I bet he was angry. The only child he was able to get from your mother and it wasn't a son. It was you."_

_Miles turned from her as he pulled the shirt off of his shoulders._

_Temperance stared numbly at his bare back. Scars littered his tanned, toned skin._

"_Did your father do that to all of your brothers and sisters?" she asked softly._

_She wasn't even sure if she really wanted to know, if she wanted to divert the conversation from her, or if she was just delaying the act of having to lie with Miles again._

_Miles turned at her words, and Temperance regretted asking._

"_It doesn't matter. I guess I damn well deserved it."_

_Temperance had already decided that that had to have been what made Miles the violent and unpredictable man that he was. It worried her that he would be the one fathering her children, if they had any._

_Miles reached down and plucked a flask from his shirt pocket. He threw his head back as he took a quick swig._

"_Come to bed," he snapped._

_It was not a suggestion. It was an order._

_He slammed the flask onto the wooden table, and his rough fingers wrapped around her tiny wrist._

Temperance flicked her eyes open immediately. She sat up and searched the darkened room for the noise that had jarred her from reflecting on the painful memories.

"I'm sorry Temp," Anne blurted out from the other side of the bed. "I didn't mean to wake you. I blew out the candle and bumped the table."

"You didn't," Temperance choked out. "You didn't wake me. I was already awake. I just can't sleep."

She laid back on the pillows as Anne made herself comfortable on the other side of the bed.

"You were all gone a long time," Temperance murmured. Her eyes searched the dark room as she waited for her friend's answer. The entire Howard family had disappeared after settling her into Anne's room, leaving her victim to her own thoughts and memories.

"Well we thought you were sleeping. Father has been talking to the militia members and mother and I tried to give you time to regain your strength," Anne said softly.

"I haven't been able to sleep at all," Temperance murmured. "My mind keeps me awake."

She wiped the dampness away from her cheeks before lowering her face back to the slightly damp pillow.

"I kept your secret, Temperance," Anne whispered. "I guess that it does not make much of a difference if everyone knows the truth about Miles or not. I only want what is best for you and I understand that you've been through a lot. Miles is gone forever now. The Dragoons are still around though. Some of the militia men's houses were burned today. Earlier this morning actually, the ones that were close to yours."

"Did they come back and burn our farm?" Temperance asked quickly.

"No they didn't," Anne murmured.

Temperance fell silent. She couldn't help but wonder if the Dragoons had even been back to it after they'd finished their other stops.

"Does everyone know, or think they know what happened to Miles and I?" Temperance finally asked.

She imagined all of the gossiping townspeople spreading word as quickly as wildfire. The story would have probably grown completely out of proportion now. A story of a man who'd given his life to protect his wife, but was then killed and she was attacked anyway, barely escaping with her own life. Temperance frowned at her own imagination.

Anne was silent for a few seconds before she answered.

"I really don't know, Temp."

Temperance sighed. "I don't want to face any of them, but this is the only place I've known as home."

Dread grew in the pit of Temperance's stomach as she once again imagined the gossip that had spread through the town as she spent the remainder of the day locked away in Anne's bedroom.

"They brought Miles back into town to bury him in the cemetery," Anne murmured softly. "The reverend and the men mentioned having a service in the morning for him."

"I guess I'll be expected to attend," Temperance said coldly.

"If you don't want to you don't have too," Anne said quickly.

"But what will everyone else think?"

"They'll think that you're grieving."

"I am grieving," Temperance murmured. "Just not over him. I'm grieving over me. I'm grieving over the time I wasted suffering."

Silence fell around the room once again. Temperance could feel burning tears threatening her eyes.

"From what Gabriel has told me…they think that The Butcher is trying to flush them out. They think that the burning of the militia men's houses was just the start. It's no telling what they may do next or where they might show up," Anne began talking once again.

"So you and Gabriel?" Temperance asked numbly. It was an attempt to lighten the mood, but her question came out unfeeling and cold.

"Yes. He asked father if he could write me while he was away. He's been coming back to visit me every chance he gets. I have been wanting to tell you, but you have not been in to see me lately. I understand why now."

"Gabriel's nice," Temperance said softly.

She rolled onto her side, facing away from Anne and pulled the homemade quilt up to her chin.

"Temperance… you're going find someone new. Miles was not right for you. He did not deserve you and that is why he was taken away. You're beautiful. Miles was not your first suitor and will not be your last. You will just stay here until the right one comes. I nor Father or Mother would allow you to return alone to that farm, you know that right? You're back here with me. I'm not losing you for months again. I felt as if I lost my blood sister when you went and got married."

Temperance felt a weak smile form on her lips and a slight shiver of emotion travel through her tired body.

"I'm serious, Temp. You attract suitors like no one i've ever seen. The next man that wants your hand in marriage will have to live up to my expectations and my Father and Mother's. You'll not be mistreated by someone again."

"None of his family knows that he is gone," Temperance murmured softly.

The statement seemed to take Anne off guard because she fell silent again.

"His family never came here though did they?" she finally asked.

"No. Just his youngest brother. He is the only one that visited when we got married," Temperance murmured. "I don't really know him."

"Will you be writing to him and informing him of his brother's death?"

"I don't know," Temperance murmured weakly.

* * *

"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted."

Temperance raised her eyes back to meet the Reverend's. His expression was painful and the worn bible he held in his hands shook slightly.

_Why? _Temperance wondered.

She broke eye contact with the Reverend and scanned the eyes of others that had crowded around the small cemetery. Everyone looked genuinely sad.

_Nobody else knew who he really was,_ Temperance reminded herself.

No one else knew that Miles was a drunk or that he was mean and unpredictable. If they did know, or if they had known before they'd gotten married, no one warned her. No one spoke of Miles in any form of bad manner. Maybe that was why she'd sworn Anne to secrecy. She hadn't tried to tell the townspeople that Miles wasn't who they thought he was. As badly as she wanted to tell them and taint his name, the wounded part inside of her stopped her.

Temperance regretted leaving the house. As Anne had suggested, she wished that she would have not have attended Miles's service. Her terrible thoughts and feelings plagued her whether she was alone or in a crowd. She could not escape them.

"The Lord says be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life. Mrs. Turner, your husband was a man of God," The Reverend said.

Temperance did not look back to the him, choosing instead to stare into the distance. She zoned out like she did back at home. She watched the birds around them that chirped and sang as they dipped through the trees. They had no idea that any tragedy had befallen on the little town, nor did they know that this time was supposed to be one of sadness and reflection over a loved one's life. The weather was growing increasingly colder as winter came in full swing. It appeared to become as bleak and cold as she felt.

Temperance swallowed the lump that had grown uncomfortably large in her dry throat. She was reflecting on Miles's life, but she felt no sadness for him. The only sadness she felt was for herself.

"I cannot count the occasions in which Miles Turner shared thoughtful conversation with me inside or outside of the church," the Reverend continued. "He did a great justice to our town the short while he was here."

Temperance's dry eyes drifted to the simple, wooden, white cross sticking out of the fresh, dark mound.

_Miles will never hurt me again_.

The thought gave Temperance a sense of calm. Never again would she have to struggle with dealing with him and trying to talk herself into understanding what kind of man he was or what had made him that way. He was gone like the leaves in the fall. The Colonel had taken him right out of the world.

"For he will give his angels charge of you to guard you in all ways."

Temperance allowed the flashbacks to overtake her mind as the Reverend droned on. She remembered seeing Miles for the first time. He had been a stranger who'd shown up with barely any belongings and nothing to show but a clean, crisp outfit and a well taken care of horse. His few belongings were packed away in a saddlebag. Temperance's father had passed months before Miles moved into town with his story of looking for a fresh start and a place to begin his life. Temperance sometimes blamed her acceptance of Miles's engagement on the timing or the emotional turmoil and loneliness that she was feeling because of the loss of her father. It was her fault, though. No one forced her into marrying him. She was naïve, and did not really know him. As much as she'd loved staying with the Howard's, that was also a deciding factor in her decision to marry Miles. Temperance did not want to be a burden. She'd wanted to start her own life. She'd needed too.

"Let us pray," The Reverend's voice penetrated her thoughts and Temperance bowed her head with all of the others.

She couldn't help but think of what Anne had said about the other houses being burned. The Dragoons were a force to be reckoned with. As she thought about Colonel Tavington, a slight chill coursed through her. His decision of seemingly sparing her was what no one except Anne knew of.

Most of the militia members had already left, afraid that more damage would be caused than good the longer they stayed. They had also all been plagued with a need for vengeance, hoping that they would run into the Dragoons or any other redcoats to take their anger out on. Benjamin Martin and his son had stayed, though. Temperance raised her head slightly to peek at the two of them. They stood a few feet away. Gabriel was beside Anne.

"May God bless and watch over Miles Turner's soul and his wife, Temperance," The Reverend said softly.

Temperance shook her head slightly. Her face burned. Here she was, at her husband's funeral, practically condemning him to hell herself.

When the prayer was over, Temperance did not move. She watched everyone else turn from the fresh grave. Their faces were all solemn or tear stained.

Temperance jumped when a hand gently touched her shoulder. She turned slightly. A form of dread knotted in her stomach out of fear that she would actually have to converse with someone or hear anymore "I'm so sorry's."

"Are you alright?"

Temperance diverted her gaze from Benjamin Martin's as soon as her eyes met his.

"We're not going to let him get away with this," he said softly. His voice was barely above a whisper and she had to look back up at him to understand what he was saying.

His strong but tired eyes seemed to stare into her soul. She nodded at him out of nervousness. Benjamin Martin was always serious, always on a mission, and never ready to give up. She studied the creases in his tired face as he squinted against the harsh morning sunlight.

Temperance could not make herself maintain eye contact with him for long though. She knew that the slight bruising on her face still had not gone away. If anything, it was darker and more noticeable now. The people she encountered stared at her and stole glances as if they were realizing that what they'd heard was true, assuming that she was just an unfortunate soul that was tangled up into the messy affairs of war just because she was a woman in the wrong place at the wrong time.

_Let them think what they want,_ Temperance reminded herself silently over and over again. _No matter what they believe, either way, I'm a victim. A helpless victim, whether The Butcher's or Miles's._

"That…man has taken far too many, and ruined far too many lives," Benjamin Martin murmured.


	5. Chapter 5

_Dear Michael,_

_It is of my utmost regret that I must write to you and inform you of your brother, Miles's, passing. I do not wish to involve the details over writing, but I will say that it was an unexpected tragedy. We must remember that Miles is in a better place. If you wish to meet, I will meet with you when we have both had an adequate amount of time to grieve. If there is anyone else in your family that needs to know, I hope that you can inform them. May God be with you and your family. I am still your family although not in blood. _

_Love,_

_Temperance_

Temperance looked up from her paper and immediately folded it. Her tired eyes had already scanned the words over and over again until she had them practically memorized. The words were not necessarily heartfelt, but she wasn't even sure how to go about telling Miles's brother of his death. She'd only met him once, but he deserved to know, she'd decided, and after her decision, she felt that she would have to write the letter.

Anne was sitting across from her at the wooden table. She caught Temperance's attention as she held her own paper up. Anne's eyes scanned over her own words that would soon be sent to Gabriel. Temperance diverted her gaze from her friends before their eyes met.

Anne was happier than Temperance had ever seen her. Gabriel had recently asked for her hand and they were trying to plan out details and a safe place to conduct their marriage ceremony.

The militia stayed busy. The redcoats had recently captured many of their men and Benjamin Martin had gotten them back. Anne always informed Temperance of what Gabriel wrote of in his letters, but she always approached the subject of Colonel Tavington cautiously. Benjamin Martin had still not exacted the revenge he planned for the Colonel, and the Colonel seemed to be causing more and more trouble for the militia. Anne was still the only person that knew of the actual events that had occurred weeks ago. She was the only one that knew that the colonel had not attacked her. Temperance was finally feeling a little more normal though. She could walk down the streets a little easier without her cheeks burning or worrying that everyone was judging her. She was trying her best to determine what her next step would be in her life.

* * *

On the day that Anne was supposed to be getting married, Temperance found that getting out of bed was much harder than usual. Anne and her parents were going to make the trip to Black Swamp where the Martins were hiding. Temperance had been invited of course, but she had already decided that she would not be going. The depression that had fallen around her was difficult to deal with. She was alone once again, and depending on the Howard's. This made Temperance feel helpless. She seemed to be stuck in a never ending cycle, finding herself depending on others, time and time again. Anne would soon be gone, and Temperance felt that she would be no more than a burden to her friend's parents. "I'll be fine. I promise," Temperance forced a smile to Anne's parents.

Anne's mother leaned and kissed her cheek gently.

"I hope that you have a safe trip," Temperance continued.

"You are sure that you are okay staying here?" Mr. Howard asked once again.

"Yes. I do not want to miss Michael's letter. I wrote a good while ago about Miles. I want to be able to respond as quickly as possible," she said softly.

Temperance did not add in the part of her that did not want to face Benjamin Martin after his thoughtful words during Miles's funeral service. It was hard for Temperance to face those that pitied her when they did not know the real truth.

"Go," Temperance said playfully. "Go have fun. Tell Gabriel that I sent my best wishes to the both of you," she smiled at her friend.

"Temp," Anne whined. "I want you to be there."

Temperance wrapped her friend in a tight hug. "I know. I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay. I completely understand," Anne whispered back. "I love you."

"If anything should happen in the town or anywhere around it, go to the cellar," Mr. Howard said as he straightened his suit. "That is how the Martin children escaped the plantation with their aunt."

Temperance nodded. The idea of Colonel Tavington going out in search of Benjamin Martin's other family sickened her. They had all barely escaped from the plantation.

"I'll be okay, Mr. Howard. I feel much safer here than on the road."

"I don't know what is safe and what is not anymore," Mrs. Howard murmured softly. "I want to make you come with us, but…

"Mr. Howard and Mrs. Howard, it was a tragic accident. It was just fate that the Green Dragoons stopped on our farm. It's not like they are looking for me. I don't feel as if I'm in any more danger than any of us," Temperance forced the words out of her mouth.

Mr. Howard forced a smile. He nodded at her and turned to lead his wife and daughter off of their porch.

Temperance stood outside and waved as the three of them rode off on the carriage.

It wasn't that Temperance did not want to see Anne and Gabriel get married, but it was just easier for her to stay at the Howard's home. She was still dealing with her conflicting emotions, just barely fitting back into the society and atmosphere of the little village after being gone for so long.

She still had not been back to her and Miles's farm to gather up her own things, not that she had many in the first place. She wasn't sure when she would be able to build up the courage to go back there and revisit all of the memories and emotions she had left behind there.

Temperance cleaned and dusted the Howard's home the remainder of the day. It made her feel as if she was pulling her weight, and it also kept her busy. She tried not to stoke the fire of jealousy she could feel burning inside her. Anne who was a year younger than her, was going to be getting married. Temperance knew that Gabriel would treat her right. There was no Miles hidden beneath his smile.

* * *

On the second day that the Howard's were gone, Temperance left the house early dressed in another of her simple dresses with her a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She retied the bonnet on her head and slowly walked toward the church. The little cemetery nearby was surrounded by a small white fence. The weather was gloomy. Heavy clouds hung in the air, but the gloominess did not stop the birds from chirping and fluttering around.

Temperance entered the little cemetery and reached to pluck up a wild flower. It was dainty. Most of its petals were ruffled and torn and its stem was wilted after being trampled by someone or something else that had not noticed it. She twirled the little stem in between her fingers. It was a pretty little thing, but she knew that the other flowers around it stood out more. They were not used or wilted like the poor one that she held.

A slight roll of thunder rumbled in the distance, bringing Temperance back to reality. She continued farther into the cemetery, still clasping the delicate flower in her fingers.

Temperance finally lowered herself to her knees beside her father's grave marker. Grass had taken root upon the dirt mound that was no longer fresh. She carefully laid the wilted flower upon the mound.

Temperance swallowed hard, allowing her eyes to stare hard at the wooden grave marker.

"Father," she whispered.

Her hand trailed on the white wood of the little cross. Her fingers sank into the crudely carved indentions that held her father's name.

"I don't know what to do. I'm all alone. I am once again living off of the Howard's. I have nothing to offer anyone."

Temperance nervously glanced around when her voice cracked. Thankfully no one was watching or listening to her heartfelt conversation with her deceased father.

"I can barely walk around the town. Everyone looks at me as if I am the victim that they think I am." Temperance paused and lowered her voice. "They think that the colonel attacked me, but they do not know that it was Miles. No man is ever going to look at me again. Anne and her parents tell me that it is only a matter of time, but no one wants someone like me…someone used," she rambled on. "Anne is getting married. I'm not jealous. I want her to be happy. I do not even think I want to get married again, but what will I do? I can't live off of other people any longer. I feel so guilty, father."

Temperance fell silent as if she was waiting for an answer. The rain-scented breeze blew through the cemetery. With every gust, it seemed to grow even colder. It rustled her dress and sent a strange calm through her body. With the breeze touching her, Temperance imagined that it was her father's strong hand resting on her shoulder, or his special cologne that wafted around her. With her eyes closed, she imagined seeing him right before her. She could almost hear his voice.

"Redcoats!"

Temperance flicked her eyes open. The comfort she felt was gone. Instead, the bitter breeze chilled her to the bone. The man that had yelled the words of warning, hurried passed the cemetery.

Temperance quickly jumped to her feet. As soon as her eyes landed on a few red coats wandering the main road she gasped. A strong gust of wind picked up. She darted out of the cemetery, passed the church, and behind a building on her secret path to the Howard's house.

Temperance's heart leap into her throat as she crossed the path of a large brown horse that carried a Dragoon. Every muscle in her body tensed and her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes nervously darted to the face, and when she realized that it was not Tavington, she continued on her way to the Howard's home. She brought her hands up to rest on her bonnet to ensure that the wind would not blow it from her hair. Her heart raced in her chest and panic constricted her throat.

_Why are they all here? _She thought frantically.

"Everyone has been requested to gather in the church. Colonel Tavington wishes to address the whole village-" Captain Wilkins yelled from his horse.

Temperance continued as if she had not heard the Captain's announcement. She rounded the corner of the Howard's house, ready to dart inside, but a few red coats stood on the porch.

Temperance gasped. Her breath caught in her throat, and the men realized her fear.

"Miss…It's just a gathering. Nothing to worry about," a younger red coat held his hands up as he spoke.

Temperance shook her head quickly. She frantically looked around,

desperately trying to think of another escape .

"It's an order Miss," the other soldier said quickly. "Don't cause a disturbance."

"To the church!" A voice called out once again. It brought Temperance's desperate attention back out to the streets where a few groups of red coats were walking around, directing people to the church. They were beginning to stop at ever house to make sure that no one was hiding away. More and more of them seemed to pour into the village. The Green Dragoons' horses were trailing one behind the other as they made their way to the church behind the anxious people. She gasped quietly when she saw Miles's horse. The first Dragoon was riding the beautiful brown horse with a blonde mane and tail that had once been Miles's. Temperance could not force her eyes away from the first Dragoon as soon as her eyes fell on him. She stood completely still with her gaze transfixed. His body was turned from hers, but she knew that it was him. It was Tavington. He sat erect, pointing out orders to the other Dragoons that followed him. His head turned slightly, showing her the profile of his face.

"Miss."

Temperance whirled back to face the two redcoats that were now blocking the door of the Howard's home.

"We're going to escort you to the church," the younger one said.

"I can go myself," Temperance blurted out.

She hurried back down the porch steps and immediately inserted herself into a wad of people that she hoped would easily conceal her from the eyes of the Colonel. Not even sure what she had to fear, if she had anything, Temperance could not ease her mind. Temperance hurried passed the few people that took their time walking into the church. She bustled passed all of the familiar faces and reached her destination, the very back of the church.

Temperance struggled to control her breathing. She ducked behind a large group of men and collapsed to her knees on the wooden church floor.

"Temperance."

Temperance glanced up nervously, not wanting to have to explain her fear to anyone.

"Keep her hidden," Mr. Thompson continued quickly. "Don't let him see her."

"Thank you," Temperance gasped out weakly. She made eye contact with the nice, older man for a short second before returning her eyes to the dirty floor. Mr. Thompson was old, in his late 60's. Although he was older than her father, the two of them had been good friends. He'd offered her a place to live if she ever felt the need to move on from the Howard's after her father had died.

"The butcher wants to speak to us? For what?" one of the women to Temperance's side demanded frantically.

"They're looking for them. They're looking for Benjamin Martin. I know it," A man whispered.

"What if he's looking for _her_ again," A woman snapped rudely. "Just give her to him."

"He's not looking for me," Temperance choked out. "He doesn't know I'm here, but he can't know. He'll leave if everyone just cooperates," she stammered.

"I'm not _cooperating_ with him!" The snooty blonde a few inches away snapped.

"Alexandra!" Temperance hissed at the blonde. "He won't hurt you. He's not after you. He's not after any of us. He's after the militia."

"Like he didn't hurt you?" Alexandra spat.

"Alexandra!" Mr. Thompson scolded his teenage grand daughter.

Temperance opened her mouth to argue, but the angry snort of a horse from the front of the horse stopped her. A few people shrieked and stumbled back farther into the church. Temperance sank farther onto the ground. She focused her eyes on her hands, desperately clutching at the floorboards beneath her hands and knees.

She held her breath when the thud of hooves stopped. The murmur that had traveled through the crowd silenced itself immediately.

"This town has given aid to Benjamin Martin and his rebels," Temperance clenched her jaws at the sound of the colonel's voice. It sliced coldly through the still atmosphere inside the church. Temperance could already see his cold, blue, eyes in her mind. She remembered the slight smirk his face held when he snapped at her. She remembered the unemotional facial expression he showed when he shot Miles.

"I wish to know his whereabouts… so anyone who comes forward may be forgiven their treason."

Temperance stared at the shoes of the men standing before her. They shifted on their feet uncomfortably. Someone coughed nervously, but no one spoke up.

"Very well, you had your chance."

Temperance nearly let out a breath of relief, but a voice spoke up.

"Wait! It is not the entire town." A man cried out nervously.

"Is it not?" Tavington asked coldly.

"No. It is Peter Howard and his family. His daughter is engaged to be married to Gabriel Martin. They are hidden away and not here at the moment-"

"And how do I know that you are not lying. What are the odds that Peter Howard is not here at the moment? Hmmm?" Tavington interrupted him.

"Well his daughter is betrothed to Gabriel Martin. They went to visit them just a day ago."

Temperance's mouth fell open.

"Ah so I missed them?" Tavington spat coldly.

"But the girl that stays with the family is here. She knows!" The man continued.

A chill traveled down Temperance's spine and seemed to take root in her very heart.

_No, no, no, no, _her mind screamed.

"And who might this girl be?" Colonel Tavington asked. "Not their family?"

"No not there family. Temperance. Temperance Turner! You know her!" The man announced as if he'd just remembered hearing of her run in with the colonel. "God forgive me, but she is here," he continued. "She is…she is here somewhere. I saw her!"

A murmur of quick shhh's and gasps left the crowd. Temperance shut her eyes immediately.

_Please God,_ she prayed silently, but she knew that there was only so long that she would be able to stay hidden while cornered inside of a church.

"Ahh Mrs. Turner? Where?" Temperance's eyes flicked open and she looked up at his sharp tone, half afraid that he'd seen her, but she still could not see him passed the people she'd taken shelter behind.

Mr. Thompson was still standing firmly before her.

While she could not see Tavington for herself, she could, however, practically feel his eyes searching the crowd for her.

She's here where is she?" The man who'd given her away demanded frantically. He began bustling through and around people.

_Cornered,_ Her mind screamed. _You're cornered. Nowhere to go._

Temperance sat frozen in place as the man moved people around in his search for her. People grunted and complained as they were shoved or pried away from each other by the traitor's frantic hands.

Temperance fought the urge to move, to try and hide herself better, but deep down she knew there was no where to hide.

"Stop it," Mr. Thompson ordered.

"She's here! Right here!" The man jumped as he pointed. "She's on the floor!"

Every muscle in Temperance's body froze. Her chest ached, and she realized that she'd been holding her breath the entire time.

"I said stop it!" Mr. Thompson roared, but the man bustled passed the older man, pushing him slightly out from in front of her.

"What are you doing on the floor there? Miss Turner?" Tavington called out.

Temperance's eyes slowly rose to meet the colonel's. He was, as she feared, staring directly at her. Temperance let out a shaky break. She climbed to her feet unsteadily and gently brushed the dirt from her dress. The air around them was thick with tension and the heat from being so tightly cramped inside on a hot day. She could feel the eyes of every person on her, studying her, as she allowed her eyes to meet Tavington's once again.

"It's a small world is it not?" The colonel muttered. "Did you think that you could hide from me?"

His lips formed into a slight sneer, but it faded as quickly as it had come upon his face.

"Temperance… you're still not choosing good company. You moved on from that husband of yours but moved into a traitorous family and town," The colonel continued coldly.

"It is not the town-" The man that had already given her away blurted out once more.

"Shut it," Tavington snapped. "I did not ask you."

Temperance flinched at the sheer coldness in his voice, even though he was not speaking to her. A chill traveled down her spine, despite the warmth of the air inside the little church. She stared back into the face of the man who'd taken the life of her husband. Her fear intensified the longer his eyes studied her. It was the fear of uncertainty and fear of the unpredictability of the harsh Colonel.

"I believe that we have things we must discuss, Temperance. It does not even pertain to the Martins, but now I guess that you can give us the information we need about them as well. Come along," he motioned to her quickly as if he was calling a dog.

Temperance did not move.

_What does he need to discuss that did not pertain to the Martins? _Temperance's mind frantically whirred as it tried to conjure what he could possibly mean.

"I said come. Come here," he snapped coldly, bringing her back to the reality she was facing.

"I don't believe that you would like me bringing this mindless gossip I heard before the entire village, although it seems to have spread from here."

Temperance's heart sank deeper in her chest.

_Gossip. About him?_ Temperance felt a knot forming in the pit of her stomach as her thoughts swam through her mind. He could have only heard one thing. _Had he heard other people's accounts of his visit to she and Miles's farm? If he has, he's heard lies. Lies that I did not expect him to hear._

"Bring her to me. Bring her forward and you will all be forgiven of your treason," Tavington blurted out. "Sir, yes you….Thank you for bringing her existence here to my knowledge. Bring her forward."

Mr. Thompson stepped back in front of her as the other man turned back to look in her direction.

"Give her to me. It's the right thing to do," The man said nervously. His eyes were wide. They gave away his uncertainty of the situation that he otherwise was successful at hiding.

Temperance felt the older man's courage wavering before her. He turned and gave her a nervous glance.

"Just move Mr. Thompson. It's okay," she whispered softly. Her eyes dropped to the floor immediately. "Don't put yourself in danger."

"How is trading her off to him a good thing? You are all willing to trade her off to him, leaving her at his mercy again?" Mr. Thompson yelled angrily.

"You're willing to give your life for her?" The traitor exploded.

Temperance nervously glanced to the Colonel. He was chewing at his bottom lip, just watching the situation unfold before him, allowing them to all entertain him.

"Send her to him Grandfather!" Alexandra's shrill voice broke the silence.

"He's a liar! Temperance knows nothing." Mr. Thompson bellowed.

"Please just stop," Temperance reached out and gently grasped his arm. She locked eyes with him. "It's okay. I'll be okay. You've got to stop," she lowered her voice to a shaky whisper. "He'll kill you."

Temperance tried to keep her voice from shaking. She propelled all the courage she could into her words.

"It is for me to decide what she knows of the rebels," Tavington finally spat. "I'll decide and solve it all once and for all."

The man that had given her away reached out and grabbed her arm. He pulled her out from behind Mr. Thompson, who stood helpless. The traitor thrust her forward and she stumbled closer to Miles's horse. Temperance once again transformed into the shaking bundle of nerves that she'd been the first time she'd stood face to face with the colonel. His eyes traveled over her as he studied her.

Miles's horse snorted as Tavington tugged at the reins. Temperance flinched, but then diverted her attention to the horse. I was even more healthy looking and well maintained than it had been when Miles had taken care of it.

"You recognize the horse, I presume," Tavington murmured. "It is a good thing that we took him. My horse took quite a spill and had to be put down."

A few shhh's and nervous whispers traveled through the crowd behind her.

"Borden, Wilkins," Tavington turned his head slightly as he called out of the doors.

"One of you come get _Miss_ Turner. We must be on our way."

Temperance recognized the Dragoon that he had called Borden. He stepped into the church and passed Tavington's horse swiftly.

Borden held out his hand politely before he even made it to her.

Temperance shook her head.

"No," she choked out. "I don't know anything. I promise."

Borden took a step closer to her. "Come on," he said calmly.

"I said grab her!" Tavington exploded.

Borden's hand reached out and gripped her wrist tightly at Tavington's order. The gentle behavior the calmer Dragoon exhibited at first disappeared once it was ordered to.

"We have subjects to speak of, Temperance," Tavington raised his voice as she was dragged back toward the doors and passed him and the horse.

"You see, I was informed by Benjamin Martin of certain things…that I don't remember doing. He seems to believe that, and actually had the nerve to announce, that I committed a crime against you. You can imagine my surprise," he continued as he turned the horse to follow them. "When I was accused of more than just saving you from your stupid husband."


	6. Chapter 6

Borden pulled Temperance out of the doors and away from the church. His tight grip was impossible to escape from, but there was also no where for Temperance to go if she could get away. The entire area was surrounded by red coats and Green Dragoons.

"Shut the doors," Tavington's cold tone ordered.

Temperance turned her head just in time to see the Colonel exiting the double church doors.

"But you said that we would be forgiven?" The traitor of a man demanded frantically.

"And indeed you may…But that is between you and God," Tavington spat coldly as the doors were shut by a few other redcoats.

The Colonel and his horse trotted back toward them. His expression was unemotional. Behind him, redcoats attached a lock and chain around the doors, securing them into place.

Borden continued to drag Temperance closer to all of the other dragoons who sat on their horses.

"Please let me go," Temperance begged the man weakly. She knew that her pleas were worthless, but they erupted from her anyway.

Borden's eyes met hers for a short second. His mouth was closed tightly. A look of seriousness, and no sympathy that Temperance could distinguish at all plagued the Dragoon's face.

"What do you want me to do with her sir?" Borden called out.

Tavington's horse shifted its weight as it stopped.

"Here on my horse," he said coldly. "She'll have to ride with me."

Temperance furrowed her eyebrows. Borden's grip on her arm had loosened a great deal, but the man still held her close to him as if he expected her to run at any moment.

"Where are you taking me?" Temperance managed to choke out. Her high pitched, nervous voice nearly made a sneer cross Colonel Tavington's face once again.

Tavington drove his heel into the side of his horse. It immediately lurched closer to her and Borden.

"We're ready to fire the town on your order," Captain Wilkins interrupted.

"The town? Burn the church," Tavington snorted nonchalantly.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he reached down and jerked her arm hard. Temperance struggled to at least maintain some dignity as she was pulled atop the horse directly in front of him. She more or less climbed up because she had no choice. The colonel's strong grip nearly ripped her arm from its socket. An unfamiliar squeak belted from her small frame.

"Put me down. You can't burn the church!" she ordered as soon as she was safely aboard the horse and in the saddle directly in front of the Colonel. She wiggled and struggled against his grip that was still tight on her delicate wrist. Out of uncomfortable embarrassment, Temperance tried to put as much space as possible between her body and his. She pulled her dress down on both of her legs and made sure that she was covered. Having to sit so unnaturally in the dress atop a horse in front of the colonel made her cheeks burn. The Colonel's order of burning the church barely even had time to register in her mind due to his quick actions.

"Would you rather we just wait for you precious new family to arrive home?" Temperance froze at the Colonel's words. His warm breath hit her ear as he leaned in closer to her.

Tavington scooted his body closer to hers, pressing her uncomfortably against the horn of the saddle directly in front of her. His uniform brushed against her back and he reached around to grasp the reins in front of her. He lowered his voice to a secretive whisper that tickled her ear and sent strange sensations through her. "I'm sure that the new Mrs. Gabriel Martin would love to hear that you offered her instead of yourself."

A chill of disgust rippled through Temperance's body as his hands moved to her waist. At first, his grip was tight, as if he was keeping her from escaping. His grip loosened a little though, and eventually stopped on her hips. One palm flattened on her leg, leaving his fingers dangerously close to the inside of her thigh.

"There's no honor in this," Captain Wilkins murmured.

Temperance met his eyes for a short second, silently begging that the unsure Dragoon would stand up or something would happen. Many of the Dragoons now held flickering torches, and all of the other redcoats had moved away from the church. Temperance could only stare helplessly at the Captain who was ordered to do the deed. Her mind was torn between thinking of all of the innocent people inside the church's fate and her own.

"Didn't you say that all those who go against England deserve to die a traitor's death?" Tavington's hands left her body immediately as he grabbed the reins again. He turned and led the horse closer to Captain Wilkins's. Temperance latched onto the horse's blonde mane to keep her balance.

"No!" Temperance shrieked. "Please don't do this… Captain."

Captain Wilkins's eyes only met hers for a brief second before he looked passed her and back at the colonel.

"Burn the church, Captain," Tavington snapped in his harsh, sharp tongue.

"But sir if she doesn't tell you what you wish to seek, then who else will you ask?" Borden asked quickly. "If you kill all of the rest-"

"Then the rebels will come in vengeance of their town," Tavington spat coldly.

Temperance clenched her jaws tightly and turned back to nervously glance at the church. One of Tavington's hands rested on her thigh again. She sat frozen, trapped in the Colonel's clutches as she stared at the thick, snake-like chains that were coiled around the doors, securing them in place. Inside of the church, worried and nervous shouts began to erupt.

"You can't do this!" Temperance twisted around to glare at Tavington, but regretted it as soon as her eyes met his.

She was not as ready for his cold stare as she had accounted on.

"I'll go with you if you let them live," she blurted out nervously. "You can't kill them for no reason."

"You are coming with me regardless," Tavington snapped coldly. He tightened his fingers on her thigh, allowing them to dig into her flesh. When one his fingers found the bunched up hem of her dress and met her bare skin, she gasped in disgust.

"Stop," Temperance choked out. She pushed his hand away, but his hand latched onto hers quickly. He twisted her palm in his hand, manipulating her slender fingers in his strong ones.

"Stop it… or I'll have them tie you behind the horse," he gritted through his teeth. "I assure you that you would enjoy riding much more than being dragged."

He pulled her hand and forced her head back to face him, twisting her body unnaturally in the saddle.

"You…Mrs. Turner, are in no position to bark orders," he growled in her ear. "Especially to me. Do you understand?"

Temperance stared his cold blue eyes, unable to speak and unable to open her mouth until his grip tightened uncomfortably on her hand.

"Ye…yes," She stammered weakly.

Tavington's mouth scrunched, and Temperance realized her mistake.

"Sir. Yes sir," She corrected herself quickly.

The Colonel released her hand and diverted his attention back to the men that held torches.

"Give me the torch," Captain Wilkins ordered.

Temperance felt her breath catch in her throat as he snatched the torch from one of the other Dragoons.

Tears threatened her eyes immediately and an ache formed in her chest. A nervous whimper left her throat, but she swallowed it back down.

"I could have very well left you in there," Tavington's whisper met her ear once again.

"Why didn't you?" she murmured. "I'm not telling you anything. You may as well have left me be."

Temperance held her breath, but she received no response. Captain Wilkins reared back and threw the torch. Flames quickly caught and traveled along the wood.

Screams erupted from the small church, and Temperance squinted her eyes shut immediately.

"I suggest that we stay close," Tavington raised his voice so that it would be audible over the roar of the strengthening flames and the screams of those trapped inside.

Temperance could barely concentrate on their conversation, unable to shake the picture from her mind. Even with her eyes closed, she saw the flames consuming the white wood of the church.

"I happen to know of a house that hasn't been burnt by us yet. I'm going to take a quick trip there. Haven't been there in a while have you Miss Turner?" Tavington broke through her thoughts.

Temperance frowned at the mention of her name. She opened her eyes, somewhat thankful that they were now facing away from the church.

"Captain Wilkins, set up camp near the water? We shall remain close in case the militia return," Tavington barked.

"But sir…what are you…" The Captain blurted out. His voice was slightly shaky, and Temperance could practically see the pain in his eyes.

"Borden…care to come along? I may need an extra set of eyes or hands on her." Tavington said, ignoring his Captain's questions.

Borden nodded. "Yes Sir, as you wish."

"I'm headed to begin a questioning, Captain Wilkins. I trust that you can handle the job of setting camp by the water. Allow the horses to drink and rest," Tavington finally said.

"Yes sir," Captain Wilkins said shakily.

"Just let me go," Temperance blurted out. "I do not know of their whereabouts. I did not pay attention when the Howard's talked of the rebels. I was not included in their-"

"Do not play dumb with me," Tavington snapped. He once again grabbed the reins, tightening his arms around her waist.

"Come along Borden," he snapped.

Temperance entangled her fingers in the horse's blonde mane once again as it broke into a swift gallop at the Colonel's forced order.

The cold, gusty wind whipped at Temperance's face and blew the few loose, brown tendrils that had slipped from her bonnet. The ride was anything but comfortable. She bumped against the Colonel's body and rode with his arms wrapped tightly around her body the entire familiar ride to the farm that she had once regrettably called home.

* * *

"What they said was not true. They assumed," Temperance blurted out nervously when the horses stopped in front of the little wooden house as she suddenly remembered what Tavington had actually said.

"I never told the Martins anything other than Miles being killed. I didn't say that you committed a crime against me. It was not true."

"Oh _I should know_ that its not true. I believe that I would have remembered," Tavington muttered.

Temperance's eyes nervously raked along the yard and wooden house that she had not seen since the last time she'd had a run in with the Colonel.

"What are you going to do?" Borden asked. He toyed with his horse's reins resting in his hands.

"You can stay outside. Keep watch," Tavington muttered.

"Yes sir," Borden answered.

Temperance turned slightly to take a quick, nervous glance at the Colonel. As soon as their eyes met, he leg go of the reins in front of her.

"Why…you look as surprised as you did whenever your wonderful fellow townspeople turned you over for their own safety," Tavington said coldly.

"And you killed them," Temperance gritted shakily through her teeth.

"It was not me that threw the torch. You can thank Captain Wilkins for that," Tavington began toying with the saddle or saddle bag. Temperance heard the noise and felt his movement, but did not turn back to look at him. Instead, she nervously stared forward, anticipating what his next move would be.

"Why do you do this?" Temperance erupted. Her voice shook with all of the pent up emotion invested there. "Why do you-"

"I am not always the bad guy Miss Turner…But you seemed to make me one."

"I swear to you that they assumed," The words once again tumbled from her mouth. She could feel her cheeks growing hot at the thought of what he had heard. "I never…I would not have said that. I would not have blamed you for something that you did not do."

"But you were not brave enough to tell them that your husband was laying hand to you. You did in fact choose instead to let me bare the blame?" Tavington grunted as he climbed from the horse. "You allowed them to think that I…"

"I'm sorry," Temperance choked out and interrupted him. She searched his eyes as her fingers nervously intertwined in the horse's mane, as if that would be enough to keep her atop the horse and out of his hands.

"I did you a great justice by getting rid of that insolent man of yours, and you repay me by tarnishing my name," he spat as he slipped his helmet off of his head.

"I did not tarnish it," she cried out desperately.

Before her words were fully out of her mouth, The colonel reached up and grabbed her wrist.

"Come down," he ordered.

He ripped her body from the horse with one hand. So that she would not fall to the ground, Temperance threw her leg over and allowed him to pull her. Her shaky legs hit the ground, and Tavington started toward the house, dragging her along behind him.

"I tarnished it no more than you have already," she shrieked angrily.

"What?" he snapped back so quickly that she shrank back. He stopped in his tracks and whirled back to face her. His face was twisted into a snarl.

"Stupid me, I actually thought that maybe you had learned respect from your husband, but maybe he was right to lay a hand to you. You deserved it."

Temperance flinched at his words.

"So I guess that the word traveling around is that I force myself on stupid colonial women?"

She looked up at him nervously as his grip on her wrist tightened. He pulled her up against his body as if she was as weightless as a feather.

Temperance swallowed hard. She shook her head and closed her eyes tightly.

"No," she murmured. "I-"

"But if everyone already thinks that I have…," he trailed off.

Temperance opened her eyes and met his once again. She took a shaky breath. It was all she could do as she stared into his face. His eyes bore straight into hers. Being this close to his body, she could smell the familiar smell of horses, but also something else. There was a slight smell of cologne or some type of perfumed fragrance.

Temperance felt her courage wavering the longer that the colonel held her tightly and stared at her. His smell, which wasn't at all bad, intoxicated her. Seconds passed by before he spoke again.

"Benjamin Martin accused me in front of the entire fort," Tavington growled. "Do you know how much trouble he has caused me already? He is tearing through our forces and men, ruining everything. Your lie only made me look even stupider! I am already having to deal with he and his filthy rebels."

Temperance closed her eyes again. She weakly moved her free hand to rest on his chest, brushing against the buttons and snaps of his jacket as she tried to push him away. It was a weakened attempt to try and lengthen the space between them, but it did not work.

"Borden was there! He was witness. He heard the lies that poured from that idiot's mouth, right after he tricked General Cornwallis into releasing rebels. Go ahead Borden. Tell her what _Benjamin Martin_ said to me. Tell her what lies he felt he needed to feed to General Cornwallis and the entire force!" Tavington roared.

Temperance slowly allowed her glance to meet Borden's. She let out an uneasy breath.

"Benjamin Martin accused the Colonel of rape." Borden said simply. He looked at the ground as he spoke.

"He does not care that you kill innocents? Rape is the thing that crosses the line for him?" Temperance blurted out. She returned her eyes to Tavington's, once again regretting her outburst.

"General Cornwallis does not condone that mistreatment. He condones no mistreatment that is not necessary." Borden said quickly.

"The General gave me free rein to deal with whatever it takes to rid us of this problem. He does not care what happens to you. He just does not want it announced in front of the entire army and my cavalry!" Tavington butted in. "He would not have cared if I had…_taken_ you then. He does not care if I do with you what I wish now," He finished sharply.

The Colonel's eyes dropped from hers, falling to her neck and down her body.

"And I plan on taking you."

Temperance slowly felt her mouth fall open. Adrenaline coursed through her veins in a sudden outburst.

"You do not have to do anything because I have no information to tell," Temperance stuttered. "I apologize, but I swear to you I never said those words. I never accused you. I was silent, and everyone assumed."

"Excuses excuses," he muttered under his breath.

Temperance attempted to jerk her wrist from his hand. She needed to escape his grasp, needed to escape his wandering, prying eyes; but her move only made him tighten his grasp, jerking her even closer to him.

Every muscle in Temperance's body tightened with fear. She fought the urge to try and pull back away from him again when she felt the Colonel's arousal against her own body. Disgust rippled through her and she glanced upon his face, unable to hide the frightened expression she had.

Tavington's tongue slipped from his mouth and moistened his bottom lip. After doing a thorough look at her body, his eyes trailed back up to meet hers again. He clenched his jaws tight enough that Temperance could see the slight flex in his cheeks.

"I did not save you from burning and bring you all this way to not receive at least something for my troubles," he said huskily.

"Please," she stammered. "I'll…You can let me go. I'll tell Cornwallis that It was a lie. I'll say that Benjamin Martin did not hear correctly. I can-"

"I don't care what Cornwallis thinks anymore. And if I just happened to let you go, where would you go? You have no family I presume? What would happened to a pretty, defenseless colonial woman who was wondering around on her own without some sort of protection?" Tavington murmured slowly, but softly. His eyes never left hers. "Someone might take advantage of you."

The seriousness that the Colonel portrayed sent a shiver traveling through Temperance's body. She knew that she was, if she hadn't already, passed into the area of no return. The Colonel was only becoming more and more serious. His body language became more and more distinct, pinpointing how out of control he was becoming at the obvious sinful thoughts that he was thinking.

"Shall we go inside?" Tavington gritted through his teeth. He turned once again and jerked her toward the house.

"No," she wailed.

Temperance stumbled behind him and up the porch steps. She reached out and caught one of the wooden porch posts with her free hand. When the Colonel met this new resistance, he groaned aloud. He roughly wrenched her hand from the post, this time regaining control of both of her wrists.

Temperance was shoved into the darkened house in a matter of seconds. Tavington slammed the door back behind him and his hands were on her once again, pushing and shoving her, nearly sending her falling over the kitchen chairs or other rustic furniture.

"Ah the bedroom," he said coldly when he realized that it was the next room.

"So you moved?" he growled as he shoved her through the bedroom doorway. "What you couldn't bare to sleep in the same bed as you and your husband had done God knows what in?"

Temperance stumbled as soon as the colonel's gasp left her wrist. Her nervous eyes flitted around the room, searching for anything that could help her before she turned back to face him. The bed was unmade, just as it had been the day that Miles had been killed. The quilts were wadded and hanging partway off of the bed, and the room had become dusty and dirty from lack of use.

Temperance was immediately thrust back into a whirlwind of emotions. The room had given shelter to many horrors of she and Miles's marriage.

"You couldn't sleep in the same bed that you and your husband slept in?" Tavington asked once again. He raised his eyebrows. He stood in the middle of the opened doorway. His eyes had changed. The blue had gotten deeper, more focused almost, and Temperance felt as if she was staring right into the eyes of her late husband's. For a split second, she could imagine Miles standing there and not the Colonel.

Tavington slammed the wooden door behind him hard, emitting a nervous and desperate sob from her throat, making her return back to reality.

"Please stop it!" she shrieked. "Please."

"Or were you scared to stay here because you thought that we would come back and I would be looking for my repayment?" The colonel continued.

Temperance turned from him as he lurched forward. She bounded around the bed that sat in the middle of the floor, stopping on the other side.

The colonel stopped mid stride. A slight smile formed on his lips as he glanced down at the bed that now stood in between them.

"You…why…Why did you kill him and spare me?" Temperance exploded the words out in a jumbled mess.

"Why are you prolonging this even farther?" he muttered.

Temperance's heart sank in her chest. It seemed that she was indeed prolonging the inevitable. She knew that there was no way out of the room. She could not outrun the Colonel.

Tavington took a step as if he was walking around the bed towards her, and Temperance took a nervous step into the opposite direction, back around the other side of the bed.

"I'm not playing games," Tavington roared. "How long do you think that you can play this game hmm? How long do you think that you can run around the bed before I just do something as simple as this?" As he spoke, his hand traveled down to his hip. He pulled out his pistol and motioned it in her direction.

"If I have to kill you then I have to go looking for the Howard's. I'm sure that they'll come back to the village soon."

Tavington raised his eyebrows. "How do you like that hmmm? I'm sure that your friend's parents would give up all of the information they have to protect their precious daughter. Not that it would help. I cannot promise that the new Mrs. Martin would leave the situation unscathed." He shrugged his shoulders.

Temperance could feel her defense faltering as she thought of Anne and her parents.

"Don't make them suffer," she murmured weakly. "Don't hurt her."

"If they do have to suffer it will be because of your sins," Tavington said simply. He trailed a gloved finger along the wood bed rail. "It would be because of your lies. Your traitorous acts."He took a step closer to her and propped his hand on the bed post.

Temperance did not move. She watched him slink closer to her. Her mind practically screamed at her to run as the colonel slowly made his way to her side of the bed. He laid the pistol down on a small table on his side of the room before he continued toward her. Temperance could not make her feet move. Instead, she watched him as he slowly tested her, continuing toward her with a strange slow, torturing pace.

How many times had Miles cornered her in the bedroom? Temperance closed her eyes when the Colonel was on only feet away. Helplessness and fear washed over her.

_This is not Miles,_ her mind reminded her. _This is the butcher, the infamous butcher._

Temperance froze when his glove covered hand grazed her chin.

"Is this a game that you and your _husband_ played? Did your usual romp in the bedroom contain running about?"

Temperance raised her clenched fists up to her chest and cringed away from his touch.

"Please," she yelped as he grabbed her wrists, one in each hand, and shoved her backwards against the wall.

Her back and head hit the wall because of his forceful move and his weight pressed her against it.

She squinted her eyes shut even tighter and tried to steady her breathing. She tried to imagine that it wasn't happening. She tried to imagine that she wasn't at the Colonel's mercy. His face was so close to hers that she felt his breath. Each heavy breath hit her face as she awaited him to make another move.

"Open you eyes," he growled.

When Temperance did not, he grabbed both of her wrists with one of his hands and used his free hand to roughly grab her chin.

Temperance clenched her jaws tightly, but forced her eyes open. She found herself staring back into Tavington's blue, focused, and lustful eyes. Every aspect of his face screamed danger. His jaws were clenched tightly. He squinted at her until she could take his strong gaze no more.

"You felt sorry for me!" She stammered. "I thought that you felt sorry for me when you killed Miles."

His lip curled a little as if a smile was going to form on his face, but instead it disappeared. He jerked her hands up by her wrists and pinned them above her head, stretching her arms up unnaturally.

With her hands no longer between them, he pressed his body closer to hers. She once again felt what the Colonel had meant for her to feel. He shifted his hips into hers and tilted his face down to meet hers.

Temperance turned her face away from his because his eyes had begun to focus on her mouth. The fear that his lips were going to meet hers made her heart flutter in her chest. She once again squeezed her eyes closed. They burned with the tears she struggled to hide.

"You're so stupid," Tavington muttered softly. His breath hit her ear and his words weakened her even more. "I think that we should move this to the bed."

At his words, her eyes flew open.

"You're… no better than him," Temperance whimpered.

Tavington stopped at her words. The tension in his mouth relaxed.

For a split second, Temperance noticed the change in his expression. His grip on her wrists loosened and for a moment, Temperance thought that he was going to let her go out of surprise, but he didn't. He squinted his focused eyes on hers before allowing his eyes to trail to her wrists that were still tangled in his left hand above her head.

Temperance tried to steady her breathing, but could not. She studied his face, unsure of what he would do or say because of her words.

"You saved me from him," she forced the words out of her mouth, testing his reactions. "Why did you save me from my husband just to do this later?"

Her tears began to blur her vision.

Tavington squeezed his fingers slightly tighter on her delicate wrists. His grip was no longer painful, just tight as he eyed her skin, almost as if he was remembering seeing the bruises inflicted by her husband.

"You're no better than he was. I will not tell you anything. Absolutely nothing about the whereabouts you wish to seek," Temperance said. Her tone was cold, much colder than she had ever used when addressing him. The courage that left her surprised her. It had taken over her the moment that the Colonel seemed to falter.

The blank expression that had fallen on his face, however, quickly turned back into a scowl.

"I'll find them myself," he growled. "I did not bring you here _just_ for questioning. This is your fault. You're not innocent."

A surprised shriek erupted from her throat when he jerked her away from the wall. One of his hands held her wrists tightly pinning them against her own chest, and the other arm wrapped around her waist as he roughly pushed her toward the unmade bed.

The buttons and clasps from his jacket scratched and pressed uncomfortably into her skin as he handled her roughly. Before she could struggle, he had shoved her onto the bed and pressed his body weight on top of her as he once again, regained control of her wrists.

"Please," Temperance begged.

She stared up at him. Their faces were inches apart. He crushed her with his weight as he straddled her waist. His knees dug into the bed on both sides of her body and his hands held her wrists pinned to the bed on both sides of her head.

"I believe that I liked you better when your hair was down," he muttered.

Temperance closed her eyes as he ripped the bonnet from her hair. She automatically felt her brown waves and tendrils as they fell down her to her neck and shoulders.

She squirmed underneath him when he lowered his mouth to her neck. He parted his mouth on her soft skin and scraped his teeth against it. His breath was warm and all of the sensations made chills trail across her pale skin.

"You do not have to prove this point," Temperance whispered weakly.

"I want to take full advantage of this point I can take," Tavington pulled away. "I would have to be absolutely mad to allow an attractive woman such as yourself to find her way out of this situation leaving me completely unsatisfied. It has actually been quite a while since I've had a lovely woman like yourself lying beneath me."

Temperance exhaled a shaky breath. He released her wrists, but she did not attempt to fight him anymore. His hands caressed down her slender waist, tightening ever so often and allowing his desperate fingers to jab into her rib cage.

"I must say Miss Turner, you look absolutely divine from here," The Colonel breathed heavily in her ear as he whispered. "I'd be lying if I said that I had not had thoughts such as these in my mind when I first saw you."

When the words were out of his mouth, he crashed his lips against hers. His hands moved to her face, tilting it to match his movements by roughly guiding her chin.

Temperance suffered through his rough kiss, afraid to pull away. Once again, the smell of his cologne penetrated her nose, and the sounds of both of their heavy breathing penetrated her thoughts. She kept her eyes closed, trying her best to imagine that it was not the butcher who was ravishing her body, but he kept talking in between caressing her through the material of her thin dress.

"Benjamin Martin acted as if it was one of his personal missions to not only kill me and avenge the stupid boy's death, but also of your honor. It seems that he has failed."

"He's not dead yet," Temperance whimpered.

"Oh I know. But he will be soon. He can receive news of this if you would like. Maybe we will leave you so that you can inform him of what I've actually done when he and his rebels show back up."

Temperance turned her cheek to the bed. When she gasped a breath into her lungs, she inhaled the scent of Miles from the quilts. It was mainly the scent of alcohol, but it conjured memories of him, forcing him back into her mind. The thoughts and memories were not calming. They offered her no relief from the physical hell she felt she was enduring.

A warm tear trickled down her cheek and settled on the quilt.

"So now you choose to lie like a limp cloth, I see," Tavington grumbled. "I believe that I can make this enjoyable for the both of us if you do cooperate."

Temperance squinted her eyes shut even more, trying her best to imagine that she was anywhere else as Tavington's hands explored her body, slipping underneath the hem of her dress and caressing their way up her legs.

"Open your eyes," he ordered.

Temperance did as she was told. The wetness from her eyes slipped down her cheeks.

"I thought that you were different," Temperance murmured weakly. "I thought that you felt sorry for me."

The Colonel's hands stopped where they were as they did when she'd first spoke the same words.

Temperance felt a tiny flicker of hope. It seemed that she had once again broken his concentration. Another few desperate tears escaped from her red rimmed eyes as she stared up at him.

"Stop crying. It's not like you're a virgin. This is hardly a sin. You're no married woman anymore and I'm no married man," The Colonel blurted out.

"It's still a sin," she whispered.

"I'm not worried about sinning. I'm fighting a war. I'm killing _innocents_, as you put it."

Temperance's hope went out like a blown candle flame. In the mess of tangled cloth and raised skirts, she felt the Colonel touch the sensitive warmth between her legs. She gasped aloud, but she only fueled his excitement when she attempted to close her legs back.

Tavington used his knees to part them. He seated himself on his knees directly in between her legs and ran his hands slowly back up her legs. Once to her thighs, he pulled her body closer to him.

The Colonel's hands left her legs and he hurriedly attempted unbutton his breeches.

Temperance fought the instinct to fight him off, instead accepting her fate. She laid still with her eyes closed against the unmade and rumpled quilts. The only noise in the room was the Colonel's heavy breathing. It radiated through her mind.

Temperance's face burned. She thought of the Howard's and the trouble she was hopefully saving them. She hoped that by sacrificing herself and enduring what the Colonel had planned, she was saving them. She'd decided that there was really nothing for her to do but endure what was meant for her. There was no escape, no easy way out.

Temperance once again felt the Colonel's hands on her thighs, sliding her body farther down the bed to his body, and realized in one quick torturous moment that it was going to happen. Any moment, she knew that he would thrust himself into her.

She gasped in a breath of nervous anticipation, but heard something that broke her concentration immediately.

"Someone's outside!" she blurted out, hopefully as she flicked her eyes open.

Temperance propelled her body farther up the bed with her elbows and closed her legs tightly before the Colonel could thrust himself between them.

"It's Borden!" Tavington grunted. He hovered back over her and fought to regain control of her legs once again.

"No someone else," she strained her ears to hear over the colonel's heavy breathing. "Listen!"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she heard the far-away voice again.

"Who are you?" The man's voice demanded.

"Someone help plea-" Tavington's hand clamped over her mouth tightly before she could even get the desperate words completely from her mouth.

"Shut up!" he growled.

"Stop. Sir I ordered you to stop. This is being inhabited by members of the king's army," Borden's voice radiated from outside.

"Borden has everything under control, don't worry dear. You're mine until I'm finished with you," Tavington growled throatily. "Don't make this harder on yourself."

"Colonel!" Borden called out.

"Dammnitt Borden?" Tavington yelled. He eased his weight slightly off of Temperance's body and she reacted immediately.

"Help!" She reached up with both of her hands and pried Tavington's strong grasp from her mouth.

She kicked at the Colonel and fought him with her hands when he tried to regain all control of her once again.

He'd been so close to fulfilling his desires that he desperately fought to keep her on the bed that she struggled to leave.

A man's yell from outside caught his attention, and Temperance rolled herself off of the bed. She landed in a tangled mess of bed quilts and her own twisted dress, but she leapt to her feet.

"Help!" she screamed. She straightened her dress as she darted to the bedroom door and threw it open.

The Colonel wasted no time in straightening his own breeches and positioning himself back inside them so that he could go after her.

"Get back here!" Tavington growled.

Temperance dashed for the front door with Tavington on her heels. She'd already determined that anything outside would be worth facing, friend or foe.


	7. Chapter 7

_**Eleve Osirian- **__Wow. All that I can say is thank you for the review. That is most definitely the deepest review I've ever gotten and I appreciate your thoughtful insight. I did want to project Tavington in a somewhat different light and hopefully the subtle changes he shows from here on out help change him. I also wanted Temperance to kind of be that "Mary Sue" girl of the time period. I may be totally wrong on this, but I just felt like a lot of women didn't really have a voice or stand up for themselves. I think that a majority of them allowed their husbands or families or fathers to rule them, definitely rule over them and maybe took on that "Victim" mentality. My plan was to hopefully change Temperance to take on a more independent role throughout the course of this. Thank you so much again. _

_-Thank you to everyone else who reviewed also. It's so much easier for me to find time to write when I feel like people are interested and enjoying._

_-I hope that I can continue to keep you all interested._

"Where is she? She's inside isn't she?" an unfamiliar male voice demanded from outside.

Temperance only let her mind ponder as to who it would belong to for a moment. She yanked the door open about the time that Colonel Tavington came stumbling from the bedroom he'd tried his best to detain her in. She forced herself out onto the porch, her heart racing in her chest faster than her feet could ever carry her. The still blustery wind whipped her hair across her face, obscuring her vision of two men struggling against each other in the overgrown yard. Temperance whisked the hair from her eyes and saw Borden step in to swing his sword at a regularly dressed man. Temperance's hand flew to her mouth just before the impact. She faltered momentarily, trying to determine who Borden was fighting. The man who's face she had not yet seen clearly, hit Borden's stomach, stopping the Dragoon just in time to keep the sword from slashing against him.

Temperance watched the scene unfold, momentarily letting herself forget that the Colonel was after her. Borden let out a distressed groan and slumped over onto the stranger. His sword fell to the dirt.

"Michael," Temperance breathed out the name of Miles's brother when he looked up at her over the Dragoon's body. Michael's face was twisted into a grimace, showing the force that he'd used in his move of jabbing into Borden.

"We've got to get out of here!" Temperance yelped as she latched onto the porch railing.

Michael retracted his arm from Borden's body. Borden fell backwards onto the grass, revealing Michael's gleaming knife, now stained with blood.

Temperance let out a surprised scream when Colonel Tavington's arm hooked around her waist, catching her right before she could step down the porch steps.

"Michael!" Temperance shrieked.

The Colonel lifted her legs from the ground to try and control her, proving his strength to her in the simple move, but Temperance erupted into a fit of desperation.

"Let go of me!" She fought with all she had, kicking and pulling against the colonel's one armed grip.

"Not again," he growled in her ear.

He clamped his other hand over her mouth, muffling out her cries of desperation.

"Stop right there! Who the bloody hell are you?" Tavington shouted angrily at Miles's brother who stood frozen.

Temperance stared at the younger man with wide helpless eyes. His bloodied knife was still in his hand. She knew that he was the youngest of Miles's family. He was in his early twenties His hair and build was nearly identical to Miles, just a younger version of the man she'd married. His handsome face still held a baby-like quality that made guilt sink deep into Temperance's mind.

Michael did not speak. He stood silently as if he was contemplating his next move. All that Temperance could think of was the trouble that she'd unknowingly gotten him in. He obviously got her letter acknowledging Miles's death.

"You," Michael snarled. His face twisted into a look of uncontrollable anger.

"Me?" Tavington called out breathlessly. His voice held a tinge of cockiness and the usual rudeness.

"You were looking for the lady I imagine?" The Colonel muttered. He was still breathing heavily, and Temperance struggled against him more. He pressed his palm harder against her lips. She immediately latched her hands around his wrist, attempting to loosen his prying grip.

"Are you mute?" Tavington growled in frustration from her struggle but also Michael's refusal to cooperate and answer.

Temperance sank her teeth into the Colonel's rough hand.

"Stupid!-"

He immediately let out a yell of anger and pain, letting her go as he jerked his hand from her mouth. Temperance leapt off of the porch, landed shakily on her feet, and darted toward Michael who still had not moved from his position above Borden's lifeless body.

When she was a only feet away from reaching him, she heard the familiar click of a pistol. The sound stopped her in her tracks.

"Both of you stop right there!" Tavington roared.

Temperance slowly met Michael's eyes with hers. His eyes were still wide, and his face was tightened by a look of anger.

"He's going to kill us," she breathed out a whisper.

Michael did not react to her words. His face did not soften or show any concern. His coldness surprised her. After bravely slaying Borden, she assumed that Michael would have some other plan or try to save the both of them from the Colonel's clutches.

Temperance slowly turned her head back to face the Colonel. She tried to think of an escape, taking it upon herself since Michael seemed to not be. Colonel's Tavington's face was twisted into a snarl that seemed to fit his disheveled look. His white ruffled undershirt was poking out of his half buttoned red coat, his black hair hung freely from the tie that had at once held it in place, and his shirt tail was sticking out from places where it had became bunched in his breeches in his hurry to fasten them back into place.

Temperance could feel that her own physical appearance was disheveled as well. Her tangled waves hung around her face and down her back. The wind whipped the waves around her face, but the breeze did not cool her off. She could still feel the heat of her face and the embarrassment that had colored her skin when the Colonel had taken complete control of her in the bedroom and nearly had his way with her. Her skin felt damp with a nervous sweat. Occasionally she felt chills working their way up her body with the breeze, but they did not stay. Her heightening embarrassment and worry kept her skin flushed.

Temperance's heart pounded in her chest and a sinking feeling was once again forming in the pit of her stomach.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Tavington gritted through his teeth once again.

Temperance stared straight ahead, keeping her mouth closed, waiting for Michael to answer him. She could see the Colonel becoming more and more agitated with the situation the longer that Michael stayed quiet. She waited for Tavington to pull the trigger. His finger was on it, and the tension in his body was obvious. She could see it all playing out in her mind easily. The Colonel would shoot the both of them, leaving their bodies sprawled out in the grass, and leave on his pursuit of finding Ben Martin and his rebels as if he'd never had his run in with her or Miles and his brother.

"He was coming to see me…_Tavington_," Temperance finally nervously blurted out. She said his name, addressing him for the first time, but not as proper as he obviously expected to hear it.

The Colonel raised his eyebrows at her address, but Temperance continued, forcing her courage to the surface.

"He didn't know that you were here. I wrote a letter to hi-"

"Shut up!" Tavington ordered sharply, cutting her off.

Temperance gasped in surprise when Michael's arm hooked around her waist, pulling her up against him in almost the same fashion that Tavington had only moments ago.

"Michael!" she blurted out. She rested her hands on his sweaty arm, attempting to weakly catch his attention. His body odor invaded her nose and she scrunched her nose.

He tightened his arm uncomfortably against her waist and pulled her up against his body in his iron like grip. His smell was pungent compared to the Colonel who was consumed by the sweet smell of his own cologne.

"What are you doing," she blurted the words quietly as she slightly struggled against his body.

"I heard what happened," Michael finally opened his mouth and Temperance stopped fighting against him briefly. She turned her face to his, studying him up close.

"He killed him," he pointed his knife out and in the Colonel's direction.

Temperance dropped her eyes to the ground and swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. She could feel the tension around them thickening like the storm that was still rolling in. Her fear for him as well as herself intensified, knowing that they would both face the Colonel's wrath. Michael's attitude would only make things worse. He was egging him on.

"Please calm down," she murmured.

"And _you_ killed him," Michael continued.

Temperance's heart sank when she felt the cold, sticky metal of his knife press to her neck. His words barely registered in her mind until the knife met her skin.

"What? Me?" she shrieked weakly. She looked to Tavington who's face was also twisted into a new and odd look of surprise. Tavington lowered his pistol slightly. His mouth fell agape.

"I should kill you right here for having my brother killed," Michael growled in her ear.

"I did not have him killed," Temperance choked out.

"Yes you allowed him to. You allowed-"

"It was I that shot him," Tavington snapped, suddenly interrupting Michael.

Temperance looked back to him in surprise.

"But you let him. You planned this," Michael growled in her ear and took a few nervous steps back, dragging her along. "You were part of it."

"Why?" Temperance tried once again. "Why would I-" She paused when he pressed the knife harder into the soft, milky skin of her neck.

"You wanted him dead. You realized that my brother had a temper," Michael rambled. Some of his speech slurred together. "You did it so that you and _he _could… be together. It seems that I interrupted the two of you didn't I?"

Temperance took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could smell the distinct smell of alcohol on his breath the longer that he talked.

"He attacked me Michael!" Temperance calmed her voice. "He was trying to-"

"Shut up!" Michael spat.

"Michael!" Temperance tried once again. "Please listen to me. I _loved _Miles."

The words tasted strange coming from her mouth, but her mind frantically tried to conjure anything that she could say to the emotionally distressed man who held her tightly and pressed his knife against her neck. He hadn't come to talk calmly of Miles's death. He'd come to avenge him.

"You've been drinking," Temperance stuttered nervously. "Pl…Please calm down for a moment, Michael. We can talk about this."

"You were in there with that bastard. You cannot deny it!" Michael snapped.

Temperance looked back to Tavington as she thought hard. She had plenty of practice dealing with Miles and talking _him_ out of doing things. Sometimes she was successful, others she wasn't.

"I suggest that you release her. Believe me…She was as shocked over his death as you were." Tavington said sharply. He took a step down the porch steps and raised his pistol back up to point at them.

Temperance let out an uneasy breath, silently hoping that Michael would believe what the Colonel was saying.

"What are you going to do? Kill me like you killed my brother?" Michael shouted.

"I suggest that you release the girl," The Colonel suggested coldly once again. "She was not the reasoning behind my act."

"No, my brother stood in the way of what the both of you wanted," Michael trembled slightly. "I should take her. Kill her so that you know what it feels like to lose someone."

Temperance's muscles tightened as the blade pressed into her neck a little tighter. She remained perfectly still out of fear that the sharp blade would slip and her throat would be slit. The blade already stung as it bit into her skin lightly.

A rumble of thunder rolled in the distance, breaking the odd silence.

Temperance nervously looked back to the Colonel, hardly believing that Michael had made himself believe that she was actually intimate with him.

"The king's army needs her unscathed," Tavington continued. His voice was calm, and the surprise that he'd shown earlier was gone.

"You want her unscathed. Not the army."

"This has gone quite far enough," Tavington growled. "She holds valuable information and if you kill her you will not survive. I have an entire cavalry just out of sight from here."

Michael shifted his weight.

"I knew that you were not right for my brother," Michael blurted out once more."

"Why Michael?" Temperance choked out weakly. "What did I do?" Tears began springing to her eyes. The composure that she struggled so hard to keep strong was crumbling as she realized the severity of her predicament. Being stuck between Miles's crazy brother and Colonel Tavington was something that she would have never expected.

"Because you…I knew that you would not stay faithful. Men would look at you and you would go with them," Michael continued rambling in her ear.

"Enough of this!" Tavington growled. He stepped down from the porch steps and into the grass.

"I would have fallen for you too had I been in my brother's position. And _you_," he addressed Tavington once more. "She has you fooled also. She's of the evil kind. She would have gotten one of you men to kill you."

"I was faithful!" Temperance whimpered. "I never even looked at another man. I was faithful to-"

"Faithful to the king!" Michael pointed the knife back at Tavington, obviously associating the Colonel with the whole army and England.

"But not to my brother you weren't."

Temperance could not hold the tears back any longer. They trailed down her cheeks and she squinted her eyes tightly.

Michael was more like his brother than she had ever thought he would be. His temper and attitude were nearly identical. After paring those attributes with alcohol and an emotional situation, he was unpredictable.

Temperance was hurt by his blaming of her. Miles had blamed her for more times than she could count. Now it was Michael, the young man she'd barely known, now blaming her and assuming that she had planned the murder so that she could sin easily with the Colonel.

"Release her, and I'll throw down my weapon," The Colonel spoke slowly.

"Come after me why don't you? I _am_ the one after all…who pulled the trigger. Would you not like to try your strength against mine?"

Michael eased the knife from Temperance's throat at the Colonel's suggestion.

"Killing a mere woman…is nowhere near as exhilarating as killing a man," Colonel Tavington said boldly.

He maintained eye contact, silently challenging Michael as well as verbally challenging him.

Temperance hung onto every word that the Colonel spoke, silently hoping that Michael was doing the same.

"Release her, and I'll drop my weapon," Tavington said once again.

Michael's arm loosened around Temperance's waist. She pulled away from his body a little, and he allowed it.

Tavington lowered his pistol an inch or so, studying Michael with the same intensity that Michael was studying him.

The exchange between them was intense, and Temperance found herself praying hard that she would be tossed aside before both men's tempers flared.

Michael lowered his arm, completely releasing her, and Temperance took a nervous step away from him.

"Put your weapon down," Michael ordered.

Tavington's pistol was indeed still up.

Temperance took a quick nervous step to Michael's side, attempting to get herself out of the line of the Colonel's fire. Just as she moved, Michael's hand shot out and forcibly jerked her arm, attempting to pull her back to him. Temperance was surprised at the urgency of his grip. It nearly jerked her arm, already sore from Tavington's urgent tugs, right out of its socket.

Tavington's pistol rang through the air right away. Temperance heard Michael's groan and felt his grip tighten on her arm.

With the gunshot still reverberating through her mind, Temperance tried to pull away from the wounded man. She turned, but was not quick enough. He jerked her hard as he lost his balance. Temperance fell with him. In the mess of their tangled bodies, she caught herself with her sore arm. His weight fell on her, making her arm bare his fall and hers.

Temperance heard the odd pop, and immediately felt pain shoot up her arm.

She shrieked aloud. Michael's weight was off of her as quickly as it had fallen on her.

"Get away from him!" Tavington order to her somehow broke through the painful haze she felt trapped in. The Colonel threw down his empty pistol and snatched Borden's sword from the ground.

Michael struggled to find his knife from the grass beside her, giving up on his task of restraining her just long enough for her to roll her body inches away.

Pain surged through Temperance so intensely that she lost her breath. She lifted herself to her knees and struggled to drag herself across the cold ground and farther from Miles's brother, realizing just how damaged her arm was. It hung limply and stopped her from carrying on, making her collapse back to the grass in a strangled groan of pain. As she crawled away, Michael leapt to his feet. Temperance stared at him fearfully, unable to see a substantial bullet wound on him.

The Colonel let out a growl and lurched forward, swinging his sword with impeccable force. Michael held his knife up and the metal of the blades clanged. Michael's body jolted from the shock and force of the blow. He groaned in surprise. His knees buckled under the pressure and his knife fell from his hand. The younger man took a few stumbling, shocked steps backwards, but Tavington did not back down. He pursued him quickly, giving the man no chance to recover for his slip-up.

Tavington lunged at him again, stepping in and swinging his sword. It whistled as it sliced through the blustery air. Michael jumped backwards this time, and the edge of Tavington's sword slashed his stomach. It ripped the cloth of his shirt. Michael yelped, but stayed on his feet. Blood immediately sprang to the white cloth of his shirt where the tear was. Blood was also beginning to pool on the sleeve of his left arm where he had obviously taken Tavington's shot.

Each step that the Colonel took toward him, Michael took one back. His face was twisted in a frantic look of panic while the Colonel's face was focused. Tavington's teeth were clenched and each blow he swung at the frantic man was administered with a guttural growl or groan. His movements with his sword were smooth and plotted out with a quick, perfect precision. His sword wielding skills outshone Michael's frantic efforts to escape him.

Temperance watched. It was all she could do to allow her eyes to follow the Colonel and his prey. The pain that rippled through her shoulder kept her from doing anything else. She watched Tavington swing the sword, thinking each time that the very blow she was watching would be the one to do Michael in. A strange part of her hoped that it would. Michael was sick, exactly like his brother had been, and Temperance knew that he would kill her.

After a few minutes of dodging, Michael stumbled, barely dodging another one of Tavington's precise blows. His eyes widened in surprised as he tumbled backwards on the ground.

The Colonel lunged forward and swung hard at the ground, taking the opportunity that he was given. Michael, however, rolled his body out of the path of the sword, nearly knocking Tavington's feet from beneath him.

Michael was back on his feet before the Colonel could fully recover from the unexpected move. Michael darted behind Borden and Tavington's horses who had been standing peacefully with their reins tied to a fence post. Tavington was swift on his feet, once again darting after the man, but Michael snatched a pistol from Borden's saddle bag.

Temperance rolled onto her stomach with a painful whimper and tried to pull herself farther away with her good arm. Fear traveled like ice coursing through her veins at the sudden revelation. She gasped in pain, and eventually turned her head back.

Michael was hurriedly loading the pistol. Tavington hurried toward him, trying to catch him with his sword before he could successfully load it.

Michael finished his task first. With wide eyes, he jerked the pistol up.

Tavington froze in mid stride.

Temperance felt her own breath catch in her throat. Before Tavington could move, and before Temperance could fully comprehend the gravity of the situation herself, the pistol exploded. Colonel Tavington's body lurched backwards.

The Colonel's face twisted into a grimace and his left shoulder recoiled, twisting his body. A groan of surprise erupted from him. It seemed to stop Temperance's pain for just a short second as she watched him collapse. He fell to his knees first. His hands met the grass, but then he collapsed to his stomach and did not move.

_I'm dead,_ Temperance's mind screamed. She could not pull her eyes away from Tavington's body, searching for any sign of life. He had been the only thing standing between she and Michael's path of revenge. Throughout the entire fight, she'd felt as if the Colonel would win.

Michael scooped his knife from the ground. With a solemn expression, he looked in her direction and paused for a moment."I'm going to kill you next."

Michael's words reverberated through Temperance's mind. She tried to choke down the large lump that had quickly formed in her throat.

"Michael!" she stammered. Her voice was riddled with the pain shooting through her shoulder. "I did not know that he would kill Miles. He didn't know me before he did."

Michael turned back to face Colonel Tavington's body and started walking toward it.

_I've got to run,_ Temperance thought frantically, but the pain in her shoulder told her otherwise.

Temperance watched Michael through pain-squinted eyes, unable to move. She felt her energy quickly dwindling as if a paralysis was taking over her.

Michael reared back, but the Colonel rolled over. In one smooth move, he shoved his sword into Michael.

Temperance nearly choked. Her heart leapt with a strange excitement, weakening her even more, but also confusing her. The Colonel _had_ won, but is that what she really wanted? Both of the men were after her. She wasn't sure if the Colonel had it in his mind to kill her as quickly as Michael had, but they were both threats all the same. Tavington laid still for minutes, looking back up at the dying man who was impaled on his sword.

Temperance's chest heaved with each labored breath she took in. She let out a quiet whimper as she examined her arm and the unnatural angle that it hung, finally able to examine her own injuries now that the fight had ended. Waves of pain radiated through her body. She felt as if she was losing consciousness. It was like nothing she had ever felt. The ground seemed to tilt beneath her. She laid back against the grass and tried to force air into her lungs. She tried to force herself to breathe through the panic, pain, and surprise.

A few feet away, she helplessly watched Tavington roll out from underneath Michael's body. Michael's body collapsed onto the ground still gasping and emitting strange unnatural gurgling sounds even after the Colonel retracted his sword from his body. Tavington slung the blood off of his sword in one quick, fluid motion and glanced her way.

"What the bloody hell?" he muttered angrily. He looked to his arm and palmed the bloody wound on his shoulder.

Temperance could not will herself to move when the Colonel started walking toward her. She focused her half-squinted eyes on him. He tossed his sword to the ground angrily and wiped his face on the sleeve of his coat. She stared up at him, feeling as helpless as a fish out of water, as she gasped in breath after breath, unable to wipe the image of her arm twisted in such an unnatural and painful angle out of her mind.

"You're quite the coveted woman aren't you," Temperance heard the Colonel blurt out breathlessly.

She weakly closed her eyes.

"Are there any more insolent siblings or husbands that I should be on the look out for?" he spat. "What the hell is going on here at your little establishment?"

Temperance stared back up into the Colonel's face. He was leaned over her, squinting at her slightly and studying her.

"Dislocated." he said simply. "Quite painful."

Temperance gasped a breath in and attempted to sit up. The Colonel squatted beside her, settling on his haunches. He turned his head and looked toward Borden's body.

"Blast it, Borden!" Tavington growled. He rubbed his face tiredly as he exhaled. "I should have brought the whole cavalry here."

When he looked back down to her, he reached a hand out to her hurt arm as if he was going to grab it. Temperance weakly flinched away."Stay away from me!" She gasped, but her words were barely a whimper. Her voice was constricted with pain and fear. His earlier attempted attack in the house was still fresh in her mind. Her embarrassment once again burned her face at the thought of how close he had been to succeeding.

"You need someone to set your arm. I hardly think you'd be able to do such a task on your own?" The Colonel glared down at her.

"Just leave me alone," Temperance choked out. Her eyes felt heavy again and she closed them for a few seconds. "Please."

"I kindly offered, and you'll accept my oblige," he snapped coldly.

Temperance's eyes flew open as he once again reached for her arm.

"This will help," he gritted through his teeth.

"Please no!" Temperance let out an agonized shriek as he wrapped his fingers around her limp arm. Whether or not his grip had actually been rough and forceful, she would not have been able to tell. The pain surged through her once again and she crumpled back onto the ground, immediately sinking into darkness.

* * *

Temperance awoke with a strangled gasp. The soft quilts of the bed were bunched around her and one of the thinner ones was splayed across her lower body. She flicked her eyes open, slightly confused upon realizing she was in bed. The events quickly came back to her, though, and her very first thought was of the Colonel. Fear shot through her veins and she attempted to sit up, but felt the pain in her arm and realized that it was immobile. Her arm was closely cinched and tied to her body by a cloth sling. She recognized the material as one of Miles's old shirts that she'd washed a hundred times.

_Oh my God_, Temperance mouthed the words as her eyes scanned over her arm first and then the rest of her body, checking to see that all else was in order.

The shoulder of her dress was ripped where she imagined that the Colonel had set her arm back in place without her consent.

She froze at the thought of him and listened hard for any sign of him. She nervously glanced back to her quilt covered legs at the thought of anything else he had done without her consent.

Temperance tossed the quilt off of her with her unhurt hand, revealing her still dress covered body, but froze when she heard a thump. One thump turned into two, and those two turned into three. It only took her a moment to determine that they were the thumps of boots on the hardwood floor.

Temperance frantically looked out of the opened bedroom doorway. Colonel Tavington appeared there as if on cue.

"And she finally awakes," he said immediately. He paused in the doorway.

He looked fresh. His clothes were properly arranged and his hair was tied back in the loose braid. He did however, have slight tears in the arms of his uniform. Temperance allowed her eyes to settle on the bloodstains that were also there. He'd received quite a few nicks in the fight, along with the bullet wound she'd seen him receive. Her eyes roamed back to his left shoulder, now wrapped with the remainder of the cloth from Miles's shirt.

"Stay away from me," Temperance choked out weakly. Her free hand pulled the quilts back up to cover her legs and dress, using it to the best of her advantage as security. She clutched at the quilts as panic constricted her chest.

"Now now. Is that any way to speak to the man who could have left you lying in the dirt completely helpless? I set your arm for you."

Temperance glanced back to her shoulder, recollecting the memories she had of the fight in her mind.

"I thought that you were shot," she blurted out. "I thought you-"

"You wished?" he murmured. "T'was merely a flesh wound," he glanced back at his shoulder as he spoke. "I'll have the field surgeon take a look at it when we return back to camp."

_We,_ the words hung in her mind. It seemed as if he was never going to let her go.

Temperance winced as she once again attempted to move her shoulder. The pain was much duller now than it had been before the Colonel had set her arm back into place.

"A proper thank you would be nice."

"After what you did to me?" Temperance choked out.

"No. For what I did _not _do while you were unconscious and at my complete mercy."

Temperance clenched her jaws tightly and swallowed hard.

"Why don't you just let me go?" she murmured, nervously searching his blue eyes.

Tavington walked into the room slowly. He stopped at the foot of the bed and propped his hand on the wooden bed post.

Temperance's pulse fluttered slightly. His calm behavior after what they had been through struck her as odd. The space between them that had given her an ounce of confidence was now gone. The Colonel sighed tiredly.

"You still have not told me what I need to know," he said simply. "I feel as if i've been through hell and back, and i've still not obtained the information I came to obtain."


	8. Chapter 8

_I'm so sorry that it took a while to update. I got incredibly busy writing research papers and doing other schoolwork. This chapter is fairly short, but the next one should be up this weekend while I have free time._

The regrettably familiar surroundings of Temperance's bedroom only intensified the hopeless feelings of her situation. Sitting on the bed before the Colonel made her feel like a wounded bird in the clutches of a playful but dangerous house cat. He was watching her, prolonging her knowledge of whatever he was thinking in a torturous manner. Meanwhile, her heart ached in her chest. Her pride and courage that had already been wounded so greatly by the aftermath of the invasion of the town, burning of the church, and her kidnapping by the Colonel, was practically nonexistent after the recent run in with Michael that followed her near rape.

Temperance stared back into the eyes of the Colonel who had seemingly saved her once again just to have her back helpless and relying on him completely for her life or death. She could not be sure if Tavington was just glaring at her to weaken her farther or if he was devising another plan to somehow get information from her. Either way, his gaze left her feeling sick.

After all that she'd already been through, the thought of simply giving him the information still did not rest easily in her mind. Nothing seemed to be resting easily in her mind at all, especially after the burning of the church, her kidnapping, and the unexpected threat of Miles's brother that nearly cost her life. Colonel Tavington tapped his fingers on the wooden bed post near her feet. The gentle thrum vibrated the bed and gave his intent gaze an unnerving background noise. The simple noise brought Temperance out of her thoughts.

"My patience is gone," The Colonel stated sharply. "You do not even understand-"

"I understand," Temperance interrupted him, her voice automatically losing volume and courage as she met his cold, blue eyes once again.

The Colonel withdrew his hand from its resting position upon the bed post.

"I understand that you want to kill them…The Martin's and anyone else," She finished after a short pause as she watched him nervously. "I know that you want them stopped."

"And you think that you are keeping them safe by not speaking I presume?" His gaze left hers and he took a step passed the foot of the bed.

Temperance nervously flicked her eyes to watch his sudden change of direction. Although he was walking away from her, the movement made her nervous all the same.

Temperance felt sick watching him. He acted calm and collected as if he hadn't just slain Michael in the yard or nearly forced himself on her not an hour earlier. Tavington reached out and swiped his ungloved fingers across the wall by a few candles in their candleholders. He retrieved and studied his fingers, rubbing the dust away that had stuck to them from the wood.

"Ms. Turner…I am trying to reason with you. I think that I have shown you enough pity…enough mercy."

The Colonel's words leapt out of his mouth sharply. The well articulated syllables cut into her, and every word he spoke was pronounced as if it was a threat. She bit down on her bottom lip, allowing her teeth to cut in until she stopped out of fear that she would draw blood.

_Mercy and Pity,_ his words repeated in her mind. _How could he rightfully say that he showed mercy or pity after the bedroom incident?_

"You still would not trade them for you own safety if given the option would you?" He turned back to the bed, threatening her with his seemingly simple question.

Temperance did not answer right away. The weight of his question hit her hard. She held her tongue, trying to think of an answer that would suffice in her given situation. His intimidating gaze added a flick of danger into the equation. Everything that she had witnessed of him so far was dangerous and unpredictable. It was a different fear that she'd felt for Miles. Not only did her life hang in the Colonel's grasp, but also anyone else he chose to involve. Intimidation appeared to be his game. Temperance struggled to hold onto a sliver of courage although she could feel herself losing more and more control in the situations that the Colonel easily placed her in.

She allowed her mind to drift back to the town and the church, reminding herself of all of the people who had lost their lives. The Colonel had been persistent in keeping her alive throughout the day in order to find out all of the information he felt she knew. His persistence and unpredictability scared her. He was fully capable of doing whatever he wanted. He'd already partially proven so in all of his actions. She found no comfort in the fact that he had saved her from Michael or that he had removed her from the church before it was burned.

Temperance really only knew of the Gullah settlement along the coast that was providing aid. Although she had been present through many of the conversations that the Howard's had with the Martin's, Temperance did not always listen. Instead, she found herself wallowing deeper in her own self pity, slightly jealous of Anne's blossoming relationship with Gabriel. The marriage with Miles and the way that the Colonel had ended it seemed like a great undeserved injustice to her. Her entire life seemed like a great injustice. The loss of her mother, father, and all of the positions that fate had seemingly placed her in allowed her to slip into a depressive state.

_I'll never get away, _Temperance thought sadly. _Not until he wants me to._

She finally shook her head in response to the Colonel's earlier question, regretting doing so as soon as she saw the tension tighten in Tavington's face. His eyes flashed with a sudden intensity of anger.

"I thought so-" The Colonel's hand fell to his side. He pulled a pistol up with his lips pursed tightly, completely surprising her with his sudden move.

"It'd be a shame to kill you after I've saved you and spared your life multiple times already."

Temperance squinted her eyes shut. Her stomach lurched and a strange numbness seemed to spread throughout her body. She hadn't thought that he would pull his gun on her, but there was no doubt in her mind that he would not kill her. After all, it was her fault that Michael had killed Borden and injured the Colonel himself.

_Maybe he doesn't need me as badly as he thought,_ The thought flashed through her mind, and she clenched her jaws. Her entire body tensed.

A moment passed by, and then another. Temperance had allowed her body to become strangely calm in those few short moments, awaiting the moment when it would all end. She thought of her father and mother and the thought of no more torture, war, or pain. After a few painstakingly quiet minutes, Temperance peeked through squinted eyes, nervously allowing herself to glance back at Tavington. The pistol was no longer up. His hand had fallen back to hang by his side with the pistol still in it. The numbness was still present in Temperance's body as she studied his face, still tightened into a glare of cold anger. It struck her as odd that she felt no positive emotion at the realization that he was not going to shoot her.

"After all of this…you are _not_ just walking away," Tavington gritted through clenched teeth. "That man wanted to kill _you_. Instead, Borden was killed, and it was all for the information that we needed from you."

"I didn't know…" Temperance murmured softly. She dropped her eyes to her shoulder that was wrapped with the cloth of Miles's shirt. "I didn't know that he was like his brother," she whispered the words out, not necessarily for the Colonel, but for herself as she tried to reflect on Michael's violent behavior. The betrayal she felt was overwhelming. The bad situations that she kept falling into seemed to be unavoidable, but left her wondering what she had done wrong.

She blinked a few times, trying to rid her eyes of the sting of fresh tears. The overwhelming sense of helplessness was worse than what she'd felt before.

"You're not crying for that man?" The Colonel demanded coldly.

Temperance shook her head and let out a shaky breath, surprised that the Colonel even bothered to ask. She raised her eyes to meet his, but they were no longer on hers. Instead, his were focused on her lap.

"If you did not love that man then why do you still wear his ring?"

Tavington squinted at her for a moment before he continued.

"I suppose it was all part of the act of trying to make all the townspeople think your marriage was perfect even after the fact of his death?"

Temperance looked down at her left hand that was resting on her stomach. She used her thumb to wiggle the thin band. Once her attention was drawn it, it felt uncomfortable on her finger. She fought the instinct to pull it off and fling it onto the floor. The Colonel's sudden change of subject took her off guard.

"I'm new to being a widow," she murmured softly without looking back at him. "I wasn't sure when I was supposed to remove it."

"You are helpless," Tavington's words were cold once again.

Temperance slowly glanced back up at him. She swallowed nervously, trying to clear the uneasiness from her throat.

"Your fight…Your courage is quite pathetic actually," Tavington raised his hand and slipped it underneath the cloth that he had tied around his own shoulder wound. He gritted his teeth slightly before lowering his hand and returning his gaze to hers.

"This is your fault," he nodded toward his shoulder. "You need saving. You're quite the damsel in distress aren't you? Yet you continue to be difficult although you know that you stand no chance. Your cause stands no chance. We will prevail. This freedom cause is pathetic"

"It's not pathetic," she said weakly. "And I'm not helpless."

"Are you not?" he asked coldly.

"I'm not helpless," she said, her voice growing somewhat stronger out of irritation. "It's pathetic that you chose to prey on me because of the situation I was in."

A slight smile formed on Tavington's face. He took a few slow steps toward her side of the bed, stopping a few feet from her body.

Temperance remained frozen, unsure of what his intentions would be. Her immobile arm felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds because she felt that it kept her from any chance of escape or protection.

"You think that I am preying on you?" Tavington asked.

Temperance looked away from him and his strong gaze. His icy focus and demeanor was too much to handle.

"Let me make certain aspects clear, Ms. Turner. I do not care of your personal problems. I do not care about your wellbeing. I care about the information you hold. When this small group of rebels are stopped then General Cornwallis will no longer think of me as…"

Temperance turned her head back to face him, studying his facial expression during his short pause.

"He'll realize that without me, we would not be as far as we are now. I am the one who has helped us succeed this far. I take the chances. I'm out on the field. He's housed at the fort, attending balls, eating and having his clothes tailored," The Colonel spat the rest out coldly. "Tell me now where they are hiding and I will leave you here."

"You're doing this because you want recognition?" Temperance asked softly. "You're being this cruel? You're killing and-"

"It's none of your business. The only business you have is telling me what you know," he gritted the words out angrily. "I'm having no more of this."

Temperance fell silent immediately, sensing his sudden change in attitude and the obvious raw emotions that he felt on the subject of General Cornwallis and his own intentions.

Before her, she saw an unpredictable man. He held a clam exterior, but from time to time, his anger erupted to the surface. There was still something that she didn't understand. His motives for saving her from Michael and from burning in the church were obvious. It was for his own gain, but she still did not understand why he killed Miles in the first place.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Tavington snapped suddenly, making Temperance nervously wrench her eyes from him.

"I cannot trust you," Temperance paused and tried to steady her shaky voice. "I cannot tell you because how will I know that you will leave me here? One moment you show me mercy and then next you threaten me and my life. You kill as if it is nothing."

"Then you should tell me what I asked of out of fear," he said simply.

"I just don't understand," the words were out of Temperance's mouth before she could stop them.

"What is so hard to understand? Is it the part that you are going to tell me where Ben Martin and his rebels are or is it the part that _you are going _to tell me where Ben Martin and his rebels are?" Tavington demanded. "You have one last chance to do this without consequence, Ms. Turner."

Temperance locked eyes with the Colonel. She wondered what he had in store for her. If it wasn't death then what was it?

"I cannot tell you," she said regrettably. A chill traveled through her body at her own words. Her fate, she feared and knew was completely out of her control.

"Well get up. We're leaving." Tavington snapped coolly.

Temperance sat for a moment longer on the bed. Although she had no idea where she was going, she felt a small sense of relief that he would be forcing her to leave her house that held such harsh memories. For the moment, she took a small amount of comfort in the idea that they were leaving. At least he would not force himself on her in the house like he'd attempted earlier. As she'd sat with her right arm uselessly tangled in the sling he'd crudely made, it had been a fear in the back of her mind that he would use her injury to manipulate her and take advantage of her further. Michael had appeared earlier at the right moment to divert the Colonel's attention from the crime he nearly committed against her.

"Where are you forcing me to go?" She asked somewhat helplessly.

"Camp," he growled.


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: This chapter is a bit longer. Thanks to those of you reading, and thank you Eleve Osirian for reviewing faithfully. I really appreciate it._

Temperance quickly found herself being led back out of her small house. She did not struggle against Colonel Tavington's tight grip that was fastened around her unhurt arm. Her fight would have been in vain, after all, she was at a disadvantage with her injury.

Once outside, she noticed the air was much colder. The storm that had passed over had brought the much colder, winter like weather to them. Her eyes trailed over the yard, stopping for a few moments on Borden's body, still sprawled in the place he'd fallen. She then looked toward Michael's body lying face first in the dirt.

"How can you expect me to ride like this?" Temperance asked carefully. In her mind, she'd imagined the words coming out of her mouth much harsher and demanding than they actually had.

Tavington continued dragging her toward his and Borden's horse that were still tied to the wooden fence posts of Miles's field.

"I think you can manage to hold on," he muttered.

Temperance watched him take a hold of the horse's reins and untie them from the post.

"You know, bringing me back to your camp is not going to help you any," she said when she finally mustered up the courage to make the words leave her mouth.

"Well I guess that we will see about that won't we?"

Temperance stared unsurely at the hand that he held out to her to help her on the horse's back.

* * *

Temperance had no worry of falling off of the Colonel's horse. His arms were once again wrapped around her waist so that he could control the reins. His forearms dug tightly into her sides, keeping her securely in place. The bumpy ride did hurt her sore arm though. The pain radiated out from her shoulder joint and throughout her entire arm and neck.

The two of them passed a few burning houses on their way back. Temperance stared at the flames that devoured the little houses into crumbling structures. The smell of smoke was thick in the air. Her hate for the Colonel intensified as they passed more and more destruction that he and his dragoons caused. Over a hilltop they bounded, finally arriving at their destination that Tavington had ordered the men to reside.

The remaining Dragoons were immediately in clear view. The horses were tied near a grove of trees and the Dragoons were scattered about. Some of them were standing near the horses, but most of them had taken seats against the trees or on the ground, using the thick dried grass as cushions. As Tavington slowed the horse's pace, the sound of the swift creek stream became audible. Temperance raised her unhurt arm and swiped the unruly tendrils of her hair behind her ear. The chilly breeze blew them back in her face though. It chilled her to the bone. She tried to stifle the shivers that her body broke into upon the sight of all of the dragoons and the colder weather.

A few men raised their heads to steal a glance at them before returning their attention to piddling or relaxing against a tree.

Tavington relaxed his arms slightly, giving her a bit more comfort now that his arms were not pressing into her sides so harshly, but she didn't relax.

Captain Wilkins eased his weight from the tree that he was leaning on and began walking toward them. Temperance dropped her eyes to the ground to avoid meeting his eyes when he picked up his pace. She wondered what he would think. She wondered what they would all think of her outer appearance or her injuries. It had been embarrassing enough for her to be carried off by the Colonel. Coming back looking defeated was not what she wanted. She carefully adjusted her arm in the sling, wincing slightly.

"Do we have new orders? New leads-" Captain Wilkins trailed off, and Temperance looked back up at him.

He'd stopped a few feet away, obviously noticing the wounded demeanor that she and the Colonel both had. Captain Wilkins' uniform was not as perfect or crisp as earlier. It was slightly wrinkled from his leisure time resting in the small grove of trees like the other dragoons. His face was tension-filled though. His eye brows were furrowed and his mouth was open in an O of surprise.

Temperance shifted uncomfortably under the Captain's wide eyed gaze. Behind her, Temperance heard Tavington's grunt of pain as he raised his hurt arm to remove his riding helmet.

"Sir… What did you-" Captain Wilkins trailed off once again as if he was waiting for Tavington to interject and explain anyway. Temperance allowed the Captain to hold her gaze for a few short seconds. Now that she had seen him throw the torch, she expected no pity from him. He was completely in the Colonel's control. All of the dragoons were.

"We were attacked, Captain," Tavington said tiredly.

"The militia?" Another Dragoon asked as he made his way over.

Temperance could feel all eyes on her. The men all began slowly rising from their resting positions so that they could hear.

"No…by a drunken countryman. Borden is dead," Tavington said casually.

There was silence around them for a short moment. Temperance searched the interested eyes of the men around them.

"We have no time to waste. We must return to camp. There was talk of General Cornwallis coming. I hope we have not missed him," The Colonel barked.

"Borden?" Captain Wilkins repeated questioningly.

"Harris, take a few men and return to the Turner residence," Tavington ordered.

Temperance watched the man, Harris, nod immediately in agreement. He stepped forward as if awaiting further instruction.

"Scavenge… take whatever supplies you like. I do not care. But I need you to bring Borden's body back and his horse."

Temperance shifted her weight uncomfortably in the hard saddle. She stayed silent. Tavington's hands were no longer touching her. He sat with them rested on his own thighs.

"No sign of anyone I presume?" he assumed aloud.

"No sir," Captain Wilkins murmured.

"Very well," Tavington placed his helmet back on. "Do any of you have a handkerchief?"

Temperance turned to take a quick glance at the Colonel as he finished snapping his helmet back into place. The men around began shuffling and feeling through the pockets of their pants and jackets.

"I have one sir," a man announced. He moved forward and held it out to Tavington. He took it quickly.

Temperance's body went rigid as soon as the cloth was placed over her eyes from behind.

"Wha-" she silenced her own cry of surprise.

"A prisoner is less likely to escape when she does not know where camp is or how to return back to familiar territory," Tavington's breath met her ear, and his low, threatening tone sent a chill down her spine.

She could feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment, and assumed that they were flushed. When he successfully tied the blind fold into place, she tilted her chin to the ground, allowing her loose brown waves to fall partly in front of her face.

"I also think that it would be quite stupid of you to attempt an escape with an injury of your extent…Don't you?" The Colonel asked.

Temperance clenched her jaws in aggravation and disgust when one of his hands met her thigh. His other hand gripped the reins in front of her. She felt the horse beneath them begin walking at the Colonel's order. It took a few steps and then stopped.

"C'mon men we don't have all day," Tavington snapped to his men.

After a few moments, the hooves of the other horses clomped on the dry dirt. Tavington urged his horse forward and they began moving again.

"Sir…Do you really think that it is safe to bring her to camp?" Temperance turned her head in Captain Wilkins' direction as the man spoke to the right of them. She strained her ears to hear him over the horse hooves.

"Not only will there be talk… I mean camp followers are not allowed, and for her own safety…I…"

"She's a prisoner and a traitor who holds valuable information," Tavington snapped coldly. "She hold the answers we need, Captain. General Cornwallis will understand. He wants the little _farmers with pitchforks _stopped also. This is one way to get to them. She knows their whereabouts."

"I cannot believe he called them farmers with pitchforks," Captain Wilkins responded.

"Well it took for a fool to be made of him and O'Hara both for them to realize the extent of their actions. They really believed that eighteen of our officers were going to be executed," Tavington snorted.

"You still did not get her to tell you?" Captain Wilkins asked softly and carefully.

Temperance held her breath, wondering what he would tell of their stop at the house.

"No. I did not. It seems stubbornness runs in all of the family lines here," The Colonel finally responded.

"But you…" Captain Wilkins trailed off.

"But I what? I didn't touch her. We were attacked by her _old friend_," Tavington grumbled.

"Is here arm broken?"

"Are you_ that_ worried about her wellbeing?" Tavington demanded rudely.

"No sir, I just…"

"You knew her before this? It's quite obvious you knew a handful of the traitors at the church?"

"I don't know her well. I've only seen her from time to time," Captain Wilkins answered. A slight tinge of regret seemed to be audible in his voice.

Temperance stayed silent, staring into the blackness of the handkerchief that covered her eyes. It held the scent of a man. The pungent sour smell of sweat filled her nose. She breathed deeply from her mouth to try and alleviate it.

"So you're bringing her back to camp to continue questioning there?" Captain Wilkins asked.

"Do you have a problem, Captain?" Tavington demanded rudely.

"I…No sir. Of course not, but to an extent this may not sit nicely with Cornwallis-" Captain Wilkins began again.

"I am returning back to camp because that is where I belong. I have to lead my legion. I'm also taking it upon myself to gain the information we need. Bringing her with me is something that has to be done. Just drop it."

Temperance flinched at his sharp tone. Captain Wilkins fell silent and the horses picked up their pace.

In the blackness of her blindfold, Temperance endured the harsh whip of the chilly wind across her face and the Colonel's harsh grip around her waist. From time to time he would slow the horse's pace and retire his sore arm to rest on his own or her thigh. Although the slower pace gave her a short relief, the feel of his hand touching her leg was something she could barely handle. It took everything she had not to swat it away. Disgust rippled through her because his touch reminded her of his earlier interrupted attack. She, like Tavington, would also try and alleviate her own pain every few minutes, but could find no way of movement that eased the pain in her own shoulder. She clutched her arm tightly to her chest to keep it from bouncing in the crudely made sling when the horse broke into a gallop.

Deep down, Temperance knew that they were close to the camp. Her senses were on edge since she could not rely on her sight. The chilly night air snuck through the material of her dress, and ached the sore joint of her arm. The muscles in her legs and arms were sore from the earlier struggles she'd put up against the Colonel and then Michael, and the uncomfortable ride on the horse with the Colonel's arms once again wrapped around her waist to hold the reins made her feel even weaker. More than once, she squinted back the tears that sprang behind her handkerchief blindfold. Tavington's short responses to his other Dragoon's questions had eventually caused them to stop asking, and the only sounds around them were the clomps of the horse hooves on the different textures of turf. The silence left Temperance victim to her own thoughts and worries. Her fate, it seemed to her, had been and still was a helpless victim, just as the Colonel had called her.

When the faint smell of smoke infiltrated her nose, she knew for sure that they were close to camp. The knot in her stomach grew tighter. She held her breath when she felt Tavington's hands untying the cloth that obscured her vision. He lowered it from her eyes without speaking.

Temperance blinked several times, and stared across the pasture at the hundreds of white tents that sat before them. Her eyes stung as they met the cold, smoky air. They watered a little before they began slowly focusing in the dim, dusky atmosphere. Most of the tents were small, but a few of them that were dotted throughout the rows of smaller ones were larger. British flags hung loosely from their staffs in the still night air at random locations throughout camp, and redcoats were walking about. They reminded her of little ants as they skittered around their mounds.

A chill crept up her spine. She was at the camp of the Green Dragoons. Being on enemy territory was wrong and dangerous. Temperance stared numbly as they slowly trotted on toward the camp.

When they finally stopped, Tavington wasted no time in climbing down. He emitted a groan of pain upon resting his weight on his hurt arm, but did not act as if it slowed him down.

"Take the horse, Captain," he ordered.

Temperance sat still until the Colonel reached up to help her down.

She held her breath, completely uncomfortable upon taking his help, but unable to climb down without it. She stepped away from him awkwardly and almost fearfully as soon as he released her on the ground.

Captain Wilkins moved forward and took the horse's reins.

Temperance shivered as a chill of fear and cold traveled through her once again. Some of the soldiers looked up from their places piddling beside their tents. Temperance diverted her gaze to the ground, unable to watch as their eyes studied what she knew they viewed as the helpless woman that the Colonel was parading helplessly into camp.

"I would suggest staying close and not running off." Colonel Tavington took a step closer to her and lowered his voice, leaning his head down so that only she could hear him.

She slowly raised her face to see his. All the resistance she'd shown him before was gone. Her energy was drained and her courage was gone. She felt completely helpless, almost accepting her fate as prisoner of the Colonel.

"We've recently put a stop to camp followers, you see," he continued in his low tone. His eyes were focused out into the camp as he explained casually but threateningly.

"The prostitutes, the wives, families, you know…It causes too much distraction and takes up our supplies. If I were you…I would try _not_ to attract much attention to myself. Some of these men are quite lonely, not very friendly, and quite frankly out of control."

Temperance looked away from Tavington, allowing herself to once again watch the men at the first few tents that had already stopped what they were doing and noticed them. Her eyes roamed to the edges of the darkening woods. The entire atmosphere was cold, dark, and unfamiliar.

She tried to swallow back the lump in her throat upon realizing how effective the Colonel's idea of covering her eyes had been. Temperance was truly lost. She tried to envision herself escaping out into the dark woods, bumbling through the strange, enemy territory and finding her way back to some sort of familiarity, but it was almost impossible for her to even envision.

Colonel Tavington stepped away from her and grabbed her uninjured upper arm casually with one hand. He easily pulled her to his side and dragged her along with him down his projected path through the lines of tents.

Temperance hung her head shamefully, slightly tilting her chin to the ground as she allowed the Colonel to drag her. She didn't resist him because she did not want to cause a scene, but it did not keep the men from noticing her.

Temperance heard the voices of many of the men as they passed.

"What happened to her arm?"

"Who's she?"

"Why'd he bring a girl to camp?"

"Oh man look at _her_."

The men were not addressing the Colonel. Even Temperance could tell that they were speaking to each other. Their tones were low, but still audible. She knew that they would have been different had they been addressing their Colonel himself.

"Is that his trull?" The raspy voice of one of the men stood out among the rest. Temperance had never heard the word before but because of the tone in which it was spoken, she knew that it was not something she wanted to be called.

She bristled at the words, surprising even herself with the way her body and mind reacted at the looks and words being spoken of her. She quickened her pace slightly, wanting to be away from the men who watched her as if she were a fresh piece of meat or a young lamb being led to slaughter.

Temperance's uneasiness rose as the men approached them from all angles. They began appearing from tents and from behind tents, stepping in she and Tavington's projected path, trying to catch a peek at her.

"Good evening Colonel, sir," a man tried to strike up a conversation with Tavington who ignored him completely.

"I hope that she gives a discount for that injury of hers," another man's voice rang out above the rest, causing a few chuckles to ripple from a few others.

Temperance shrank into Tavington's side instinctively, overwhelmingly maneuvering her body out of the vicinity of a few men who had gotten much closer than they need be.

"She's a sight for sore eyes, but I thought they weren't allowed in camp no more," another voice demanded.

Temperance cringed when a hand tugged at a wave of her hair from behind. She accidentally moved much closer into Tavington's side out of instinct. She immediately retracted, but not before he could turn slightly and meet her with his slightly amused expression. She winced in immediate embarrassment. The idea that he found it to all be amusing sickened her.

"Stand back," Tavington ordered coldly. "Don't act as if you've never seen a woman before. You aren't that hungry. Not that damn desperate."

Most of the men fell back, allowing a distance to form in between them. Some of the men, Temperance realized, had never even left their tents.

Temperance was led farther into the camp before Tavington slowed his pace. He tightened his grip on her arm and stopped in front of one of the larger white tents. Temperance's heart leapt into her throat. She held her breath as he turned to face her.

"Do not speak. Do not…do anything," he snapped.

He locked eyes with her, studying her for a few short moments before he turned back and entered the tent, pulling her along with him.

Temperance immediately saw a man standing alone inside the tent. He was in the process of cleaning maps and other papers and materials that were spread across the large table, but he stopped as soon as they burst in.

"Cornwallis did not come?" Tavington asked tersely.

"No Sir. Word has been sent that he became tied up…" The man paused, eyeing her suspiciously before continuing. " Another of our supply runs was interrupted…but you brought a rebel woman here-"

"Interrupted?" Tavington barked. "Were there casualties? Let me guess. Large numbers of our supplies were once again _destroyed_?" He gritted the end of his question through clenched teeth.

The man nodded.

"Dammnitt!" Tavington swore.

Temperance flinched at his tone and the way that his grip tightened on her arm, but she did not resist or draw attention to herself.

"Sir do you need someone to assist you?" The man motioned toward Temperance. He furrowed his eyebrows questioningly.

"Just send the Surgeon to my tent," Tavington growled.

The man gave a curt nod and hurried passed them and out of the tent.

Tavington tugged Temperance back out of the empty tent and into the night air not far behind the man.

"When the bloody hell are they just going to give up?" Tavington growled angrily.

He pulled her passed a few more tents before stopping. He released her arm enough that she could have pulled away if she would have tried as he entered another tent. For a moment, she looked behind her. Men were still staring.

She bit down on her bottom lip and reluctantly followed Tavington into what she assumed to be his personal, large white tent. It was a barrier to the harsh words and glares of the men outside, but she knew that it would possibly contain it's own negative aspects. She stayed just inside the doorway, eyeing the inside and watching the Colonel carefully. A cot sat on the farthest side, and a trunk that was being substituted for a table sat not far from the cot. There was a wooden chair in the farthest corner, at least that's what Temperance assumed that it was. Bits and pieces of uniform material and clothes were draped over it. A few candles were positioned around the inside. One of them was lit so the Colonel leaned over and lit a few with it before turning back to face her. The tent slowly became brighter with the gentle glow.

"Damn those stupid men," Tavington growled under his breath.

When he turned back to face Temperance, she was still struggling to maintain a sense of composure. She breathed in deeply and then let the breath out slowly.

"Overwhelmed are you?" He cocked an eyebrow as he questioned her.

Temperance nervously tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"What did they mean?" she murmured weakly.

Tavington turned back from her and began unfolding a rather large map that had been sitting on his trunk.

When he did not answer her, she dropped her eyes back to the ground.

"Which words do you not know the meaning of? Trull?" Tavington asked nonchalantly. He continued to unfold the creases in the map, not even looking up to meet her eyes.

"A trull is a prostitute," he said simply.

"Why didn't you say that I wasn't?" She blurted out, once again enraged.

"That's your greatest worry? That my men believe you to be a prostitute?" Tavington glanced up from the map that was now spread out on the trunk top, partly hanging off of the edges.

Temperance bit her tongue.

"You're holding a young woman here?" Temperance and the Colonel both turned to the tent flap. An older man was standing partly in and partly out as if he'd walked into something he wasn't sure he was invited to.

Tavington turned away from the tent flap without a word. He angrily tossed his riding helmet onto his cot before he whirled back to face the older man.

"She's a prisoner," he growled. "Not that it's any of _your_ business. Her shoulder was dislocated. I set it back into place. You are just supposed to examine it. No questions are necessary." The Colonel finished coldly.

The older man stepped into the tent completely.

He dropped his gaze to her shoulder and stepped closer to her, dropping his earlier question immediately.

Temperance watched the older surgeon calmly. She sensed no danger from him. He was a skinny man, wearing material that looked as if it were a few sizes too big. The red cloth of his uniform hung on his frame, and his gray hairline was receded. His face was gaunt, much like his body, but he was cleanly shaven like the other soldiers around the camp. The Surgeon wiped his hands at the apron he was wearing one last time before he raised them to her arm. When he raised his slightly twisted fingers, probably twisted from overwork and arthritis, she saw the dried blood that stained them. The sight made her stomach churn, and she looked away briefly.

Colonel Tavington turned and disappeared through the tent flap without a word, leaving Temperance alone with the gentle older man. She let out a breath of relief at the Colonel's absence and turned her full attention to the surgeon.

He carefully and slowly removed the sling, all the while meeting her eyes periodically and studying her face as if he was making sure he was not hurting her.

"It has been quite a while since I have had to heal a gentle woman such as yourself," he murmured in his strong English accent as he carefully slipped the sling off.

Temperance tried not to wince at the dull pain the simple movement caused.

"Would it be too bold and out of line for me to question you the origin of your injuries?"

Temperance raised her eyes back to meet his silver, aged, and glazed over like ones. They were full of concern and seemed to hold a sort of sincerity. For a short moment, Temperance fantasized of the idea of begging for help or telling of the day's harsh events.

"Did the Colonel hurt you?" The surgeon lowered his voice to a breathy whisper. "You were brought here against your will, I know that much."

"Yes…well no sir, She blurted out. "It was not him who did _this _to me but-"

"You don't have to worry about me speaking of anything you say," He interrupted her. "We all know that Colonel Tavington is…. no angel."

The surgeon gently clasped her arm in his long fingers as he spoke. He carefully shifted it, forcing her arm to stretch for the first time since her injury.

A quiet cry escaped her lips, but she silenced it immediately.

"I'm sorry dear," he said softly.

"It's…It's fine," she said quickly.

"Did Colonel Tavington set it back into place quickly?"

Temperance glanced down at her arm and the slightly ripped sleeve of her dress.

"I believe so," she murmured. She chewed at her bottom lip. The words she wanted to speak were just on the end of her tongue.

"It's better to do it quickly so that the swelling and inflammation in the joint does not become worse. I'm glad that he could set it quickly," The surgeon murmured as he reached up to brush a wave of her hair from her shoulder so that he could examine it closer.

"You had a blade pressed to her neck?"

Temperance tensed at his question. The surgeon took a step back and eyed her questioningly.

"It wasn't the Colonel," she managed to choke out. "He saved me from the man who did that. Is it a large cut?" Temperance reached her delicate fingers to her neck worriedly.

"Tis merely a scratch," the older man reassured her. "But he saved you…yet he calls you a prisoner?"

Temperance let out an uneasy breath.

"He brings back many prisoners?" She questioned somewhat nervously.

"No dear. I would call you lucky for being brought back as a prisoner and not killed, but I don't know if I would call it luck. Why has he brought you here? What have you done dear girl?"

"I did not cooperate. I believe he called it treason, for I would not tell him what he wanted to know-" Temperance answered the surgeon quickly, wondering where the Colonel was or if he was outside of the tent listening to their conversation.

"Women were normal members of camp a few short months ago," The surgeon carefully slipped the homemade sling back up her arm. "There has been none here since a stop was put to that."

"I heard," she said softly.

"Whether or not he needed information that you hold, he should not have brought you here. This is no place for a pretty stranger, especially a rebel woman. This war is not women's business."

The older man carefully eased her arm back to comfortably rest in the sling.

"No one knows you are here do they?" he lowered his voice.

"No sir," she answered. "They're…They're all dead."

The surgeon stopped for a brief moment.

"I'm sorry," he murmured after a short pause.

Colonel Tavington entered back into the tent without warning, making Temperance tense back up immediately. For a second, her heart leapt to her throat out of fear that he had heard her speaking of him. He, however, did not even glance her way. He moved passed them and stopped not far from his cot, glancing down at the map he'd laid out.

"I think that she will heal nicely, sir," The surgeon gently patted her arm. "I would suggest however that she wear the sling for a while. Weeks maybe? How long will she be staying Colonel?"

"That entirely depends," Tavington answered after a short pause. He leaned over to trace a line with his finger on the map.

Temperance and the surgeon both watched him bring his finger to rub his chin.

The older man gave Temperance a look of pity. Even he appeared to be worried about her fate.

"Well sir are you ready for me to examine your wound?" The surgeon asked.

Tavington stepped away from the trunk, finally diverting his gaze from the map. He reached up and began unbuttoning his jacket.

Temperance immediately looked away. A strange heat flushed her cheeks. She diverted her gaze to the slit of light that was emitted from the crack in the tent flap. The air was getting even colder around them, causing a slight shiver to travel through her tired body every few minutes.

"Colonel…Goodness," The surgeon murmured.

He moved from her side to The Colonel's.

"It passed through," Tavington gritted through his teeth. "Clean."

"I say you are most definitely lucky. There's a lower risk of infection since it did," The surgeon continued.

Temperance looked down at her slightly dirty dress and her shoes, trying to busy herself with something so that she would not feel so awkward. She reached up and touched the torn shoulder of her dress that left her sleeve barely hanging on her hurt arm.

It bothered her, but in the back of her mind, she felt that it was the least of her worries.

"You are quite lucky Colonel. Another few short millimeters and this would not have just been an easily passable flesh wound. I'm going to run to my tent and pick up a few supplies to dress this for you. Here sit down and I'll be right back."

Temperance took a step back and allowed the surgeon to exit the tent.

She continued staring out into the small crevice of light although her mind was on anything but it.

"What did you tell him?" Tavington asked coldly.

Temperance tensed up. Panic constricted her throat. She could see his shirtless body out of the corner of her eye. He was sitting on the edge of his cot, looking her way. She could not willfully allow herself to gaze upon him the way he was, reminding herself of his attempted attack on her at her home. Once in her mind again, the uneasiness grew inside her.

What was to become of her now that she had been brought to the enemy camp with the butcher?

"I'm sure that you failed to mention your many errors or that I saved you not once but on multiple occasions. I'll bet that you did not tell him you are withholding quite valuable information that would help everyone here in camp. Your little secret is costing us quite a lot."

"I…I…didn't say," she stammered. "I mean I didn't tell him anything."Temperance wanted to point out his own errors. He was not innocent. She wanted to remind him of what he'd nearly done to her, but the fear that reminding him would only make things worse for her stopped her.

"You're telling me that you did not even speak to him? He's normally quite the talker," The Colonel muttered.

Temperance slowly and carefully brought her gaze back to his out of instinct. She saw his bare chest, noticed that his wound was now uncovered, and immediately brought her eyes right back to his out of fear that he would see her eyes linger on his chest. His presence as he was, was threatening to her although he had done nothing substantial since arrival at camp. He was merely sitting and watching her, but even that was enough to unnerve her.

The tension on his face relaxed. He reached up and rubbed his eyes tiredly before allowing his hands to roll down his cheeks and then fall back to rest on his legs. He sighed tiredly.

Temperance looked down at the map that he had laid out, doing anything to keep her wandering eyes busy. She could still see him shirtless out of the corner of her eye. It bothered her. His presence and the idea that she still could not read him bothered her. He was mysterious, unpredictable, and she was still unsure of what was going to happen to her. She was beginning to wonder if he even knew. One moment he looked at her as if he was going to kill her right on the spot, but the next, he was just studying her.

When the surgeon burst back into the tent, Temperance was thankful for the break of concentration that the Colonel seemingly had on her. Her mind would not rest though. Through the crevice in the tent flap, she could see night approaching quickly.


	10. Chapter 10

_I appreciate the feedback and mistakes that you bring to my attention, __**Eleve Osirian**__. I'm glad that I have at least one faithful reviewer haha. I will be going back to fix the mistakes when I get a chance. Soon I will be out of school for the summer and I will have more time to write and focus on this. Thanks so much, though._

Temperance remained standing close to the tent flap while the older surgeon cleaned and doctored the Colonel's shoulder wound. She could not shake the nervous flutters that wracked her tired and cold body. Night had quickly fallen outside of the tent and she could smell a waft of cooking food and smoke as it drifted inside from the darkness every few moments. Temperance's feet and legs ached from standing so long, but she did not move. Tavington nor the doctor acknowledged her for quite a while, only engaging in small conversations with each other as if she wasn't even present. Tavington explained their earlier encounter with Miles's brother and Borden's death so briefly that the surgeon even seemed taken back. Temperance on the other hand, was still in shock that the incident had even occurred. It all felt like a nightmare.

When the surgeon finally finished with the Colonel, he left, giving her a short nod of acknowledgment on his way out. Temperance wasn't sure what the brief eye contact was supposed to mean, but she felt that through that he was trying to communicate a brief message or maybe show his concern for her. Either way, she did not allow herself to ponder on it for long, instead, eyeing the Colonel through her peripheral vision. He eased himself off of the cot and perched on the edge, admiring the bandage that now covered his shoulder.

Temperance felt sick once again. She'd spent quite a few days when she'd been staying with the Howard's, pondering over the events that had caused her to meet Tavington the way that she had. She had ran over the events many times that had led to Miles's murder by the Colonel himself and the way that he had spared her. Now, she hated that she'd allowed her thoughts to be consumed with the wonderings over his whereabouts or why he had even killed Miles. Now, she could think of no other reason for his actions except that of pure evil or hatred. She'd nearly allowed Anne to talk her into believing that Tavington had in fact killed Miles as if he was doing her a favor. It did not entirely make sense to her, but she and Anne had long pondered over his reasoning, keeping in mind the stories they'd heard of him. After the day's events though, that thought had completely left her mind. Tavington had spared her from the church and from Michael, but he seemed to have his reasons, and none of them were in her best interest. Temperance worried that she'd been brought back to Tavington's camp for reasons more than the information he wanted. She was nearly sure of it. His earlier attack on her in her own home gave her new fears, but the way he had not taken advantage of her after her shoulder injury did not make sense to her.

She secretly eyed him once again before lowering her eyes.

Temperance reached up and rubbed her shoulder. The pain had been tremendous a few short hours ago. Now it was a dull ache. The pain in her shoulder barely matter to her anymore. The emotional pain she felt was worse. The worry for herself, but also the worry for the Howard's safety now was debilitating

"Eh hmm."

Temperance looked back up at the tent flap at the clearing of a throat.

"The surgeon came by?" Captain Wilkins remained awkwardly half inside and half outside of the tent.

Temperance turned back to look at Tavington who was in the process of slipping his jacket back over his wounded shoulder. Captain Wilkins was just a stranger to her, nearly as much as all of the other dragoons, despite the fact that he had once resided in the little town she'd called home. Temperance remembered seeing him and hearing of his stupid decision to join the war against them. Now, she found it hard to look at him after what he had done in the town. She avoided his gaze and awkwardly stared at the ground.

"Did you find out where it happened this time?" Tavington demanded.

"Yes sir," Captain Wilkins answered obediently. He stepped in and walked passed Temperance, stopping beside the trunk that the map was spread on.

"Close. Much closer. Cornwallis is enraged once again. We lost arms, ammunition, and a few men that were coming to us."

"How many men?" Tavington asked.

"It was only a handful, but abled bodied men are needed."

"I know. We're at our lowest we've been so far. A little over 150 men and even fewer horses," Tavington snapped sharply.

"And the loss of Borden, yet another officer," Captain Wilkins murmured."When are the Macdonald boys supposed to join?" Tavington changed the subject quickly.

"Who?"

"Allan and Flora Macdonald's sons. James and Charles. I was promised that they were coming here. I say that now is as good a time as any wouldn't you?"

"I hadn't heard that they were joining," Captain Wilkins said.

Colonel Tavington sighed tiredly.

"They are not exactly men I would like to join us, but because of their family they are well thought of," Tavington said as he allowed his eyes to drift over the map. "If we receive no word by morning from Cornwallis or O'Hara then we will resume patrols on surrounding areas. Perhaps the burning of the church has been noticed by our ghost. He will be looking for vengeance."

Captain Wilkins nodded. Temperance wondered if the pained expression on the captain's face was from the discussion of the church or just the candlelight playing tricks on her eyes.

Temperance watched the two men from the other side of the tent. Being completely ignored by Tavington was not something that she'd expected. With him focused on the map lying before him, Temperance took the chance to nervously study both he and the captain.

"You're sure that Cornwallis will be okay with this?" Captain Wilkins asked.

Tavington glared up at his captain.

"I mean…" Captain Wilkins stumbled over his own words, eventually falling silent and diverting his gaze back to the map positioned between he and Tavington.

"Never mind Colonel," he added after a few short seconds.

Temperance watched Tavington roll his eyes.

Captain Wilkins looked up from the map. His eyes drifted around the tent before he took a sideways glance back in her direction. Temperance turned her face, but watched him out of the corner of her eye. Tavington looked up also, and Temperance struggled to maintain a calm exterior now that their attentions were focused on her.

"Have you determined any useful information from her-"

"You can be dismissed," Tavington said, interrupting the captain, who stopped abruptly.

Captain Wilkins nodded curtly. He abandoned his curiosity, and turned and slipped out of the tent as quickly as he'd come, once again leaving Temperance alone with the Colonel with nothing to divert her attention but the flickering firelight on the tent walls. Tavington had not spoken to her since the arrival in his tent, but it did not make her feel any better.

The silence inside the tent was deafening. Temperance strained her ears to focus on the voices of the men outside, finding anything to focus on rather than the Colonel.

With the history of his unpredictability, she was unsure what to expect of him. His excuse had been that she was brought in for questioning, but so far, she'd had no more of that.

Temperance stared into the dancing flame of the nearest candle. The Colonel was quiet, too quiet, and she held her breath until he moved. He stepped around the trunk, crossing the middle of the tent and in her direction.

She diverted her attention to him completely, panic suddenly consuming her, but she realized that he was not even looking at her.

Temperance took a step back farther into the tent corner when she realized that she was not in his sights. Tavington did not acknowledge her. He continued passed and parted the tent flap with one of his hands. He finally turned, and Temperance dropped her eyes. She held her breath for a moment. Tavington stood for a few seconds, half inside and half outside of the tent, looking in her direction, before he finally slipped outside.

Temperance balanced her plate on her legs. She sat on the grass across from the cot and near one of the candles. The Colonel sat on his cot, propped up with his own plate sitting on his lap. Words had still not been exchanged between the two of them. Temperance had found her own seat unsurely, far away from the Colonel after he entered with both of their plates. She could barely hide the surprise upon seeing food being brought to her. Temperance studied the small amount of food on her plate with distaste. The hunk of pork, slightly charred and dry, did not summon any pangs of hunger from her stomach. More than anything, the uneasiness in her stomach had grown, making her feel even more queasy. Her mouth watered in disgust at the pork and her current situation. The bread on her plate was equally unsatisfying. Just by looking at it, she could tell that it was stale.

Temperance lifted the piece of pork to her mouth. The smell sent her stomach churning. Had she not been weak from her lack of food all day, she wouldn't have attempted to even nibble the meat.

Temperance did though, and forced herself to chew and then swallow the small bite down.

The pork was salty and tough. She knew that the saltiness was from the cure it was given to last in the camp's rough conditions. Her tongue tingled from the extreme saltiness, and she carefully sat the meat back down on her plate. Temperance picked up the slice of bread next, feeling how stiff it was with her fingers before deciding against lifting it to her lips.

Temperance eventually retired the plate to the cold ground beside her.

Her mouth was dry from the bite of salty pork, but the drink she'd been given was beer or some other alcoholic drink. She could smell the sadly familiar aroma drifting from the dirty looking cup beside her plate on the ground.

Finally settling with her unhurt arm wrapped around her sore one, she timidly allowed her eyes to wander over to the Colonel who had downed the remainder of his drink. His plate was empty on his lap, and as she watched him, he looked up.

She froze.

"Why are you doing this?" Temperance blurted out nervously.

She had decided that she could no longer take the unbearable silence and strange glares, so she attempted to try something else.

"Well, unlike you, I appreciate the food I was given," Tavington responded coldly.

"What was the purpose of bringing me here?" Temperance rephrased her question quickly. " You aren't even asking me to tell you where they are. What was the reason behind this?"

"It was your own accord that brought you here," he said simply.

"I did not agree."

"You were given a choice. You chose."

Temperance stopped briefly, thinking of words that would help her but not anger him further.

"I'm sure that word has gotten around of the burning of the church…Colonel," she spoke carefully, much more careful than she had addressed him before. "If the Martins are worried that their whereabouts were compromised, then don't you think they would have moved on by now?"

Her mind briefly flashed to the Howard's. The thought that they probably thought she was dead pained her greatly.

The Colonel slid off of the edge of his cot and to his feet with his plate and cup balanced in one hand.

"You'll be expected to contribute while you are given shelter here," he murmured nonchalantly.

Temperance furrowed her eyebrows. The small bite of pork that she'd taken in seemed to way a ton inside her nervously churning stomach.

"Contribute?" She choked out. " Contribute what? I will not-"

"As I said earlier," The Colonel interrupted her coldly. "I, with the guidance of General Cornwallis and O'hara, have put an end to the camp followers. The wives, the prostitutes, few stupid children, and whoever else the soldiers had with them only put a substantial dent in our supplies. Thanks to your rebels that keep destroying and stealing our supplies, we could no longer afford to keep all of them here."

"You steal from helpless citizens though," Temperance blurted out in anger. "You should have plenty of-"

"There's plenty for you to do here. The women that were here washed, cooked, mended uniforms, and helped our few surgeons. I expect you to take over those jobs and make yourself useful," Tavington continued as if he hadn't heard her.

Temperance's mouth slowly fell open. As soon as she realized that it had, she quickly closed it.

"So you are indenturing me into servitude? I'm no slave and I can hardly do anything with my arm incapacitated." Temperance raised her voice slightly. She was irritable from the mistreatment she'd already received, but his new order sent her reeling. The thought of working in the enemy camp, slaving for all of the men, brought fresh anger and threatening tears to the surface.

"Until you are willing to provide me with the proper information then yes you are. You are a prisoner. For the time being you will be expected to perform whatever duties are expected of you."

"But…You can't do this. You can't take me in as a prisoner and just keep me at camp-"

"Have you heard of the prison ships?" Tavington asked simply.

Temperance's teeth cut into her bottom lip. She knew what he was doing. He was threatening her, or trying to unnerve her. She'd heard of the British prison ships farther north that supposedly took rebel soldier prisoners. The conditions were unspeakable.

"They don't take women to the ships," she muttered. "No one else takes women as prisoners."

"Ah you're right. The men that contribute men to those damned ships keep the women to themselves. I say that this is a much better alternative to what you could be facing," He said simply.

Temperance fell silent. The audacity that the Colonel portrayed rendered her speechless time and time again. The words and threats that he used to prove that she was powerless disgusted her. She wanted to sink farther into the darkness of the tent away from the flickering firelight of the candles and out of the Colonel's field of vision.

"You should feel quite lucky that all I ask of you is whereabouts," Tavington muttered.

"Oh that's all that you ask for?" Temperance blurted the words out in desperation.

"If I wanted more I would _take it_. In fact…I would say that you owe a lot more. Borden practically gave his life for yours. Do you know how useful he was to us? Who will take his place? Wilkins?" He snorted a sarcastic laugh.

Temperance frowned at Tavington's harsh change of tone.

"That man, your husband's brother… was after _you_. Not me or Borden. I've taken the life of more than one for you."

Temperance's face grew hot in embarrassment and shame.

"I did not ask you to kill for me," she murmured.

Tavington's expression did not change. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was closed tightly.

"He would not have been after me had you not killed his brother," Temperance murmured softly, but regrettably.

"Growing more courageous are we?" Tavington raised his eyebrows.

Temperance clenched her teeth together and dropped her eyes to her plate on the ground.

She watched Tavington out of the corner of her eye as he stood rooted in the same place, just watching her.

"You will rise early tomorrow. I have business to tend to and you have work to do."

Temperance glanced back up in surprise that he had simply changed the subject and not snapped at her, but her body tensed at the acknowledgement of sleep. The ground around her seemed to be much colder all of a sudden. The sudden fear that had been lingering in the back of her mind was once again thrust forward. She tried not to think of where she would be expected to sleep, but it was something that she knew would probably soon be explained.

Temperance had been surprised that the privacy inside his tent had not been used to his advantage yet. He'd been so desperate earlier. Now, he seemed to be in no hurry of obtaining anything he wanted.

She chewed at her bottom lip nervously. The same numbing fear traveled through her.

"What? Oh…" A smile broke across his face, obviously noticing her change in demeanor.

"Excuse my lack of manners. You're wondering where you will sleep I presume?"

Temperance tried to contain the heat she felt flash across her face. It was as if Tavington had stared into her eyes so piercingly that he'd been able to read her mind. Her heartbeat quickened in her chest, but she stared back at him and did not speak.

"It is getting much colder outside wouldn't you agree?" He glanced toward the tent flap before returning his eyes to hers. "I'm sure that all of the men here are wishing that their bedmates were here tonight."

The candlelight flickered and danced along the tent sides. From the angle the Colonel stood now in front of her, the glow flickered on his face, casting shadows that made him seem even more menacing than in the daylight.

Temperance tried to stifle a tremble as it traveled through her body.

"So this is your plan?" she demanded. "Frighten me into telling you? You plan to make me stay at your camp and work for you and your men until I get tired and give you the information you want? And you're making me…. sleep in your tent? Is that a bonus for you?"

"Ah your tongue is growing much sharper, Mrs. Turner," Tavington narrowed his eyes at her. " So many questions. An answer for an answer?"

Temperance tilted her chin to her lap, already knowing what his question would be.

"I cannot tell you," she whispered so softly that the words barely left her lips.

"What was that?" he demanded.

"I do not know where they are."

"Well you'll find out that talking would have been a much easier alternative," he nodded in the direction of the tent flap. "Keep in mind that my tent offers safety you won't find out there," he raised his eyebrows. "If you don't believe it, it can be easily proven."

Temperance turned and stared hard at the crack of darkness. At the moment, the cold darkness outside was more inviting than the dim glow and unwanted company she resided with inside the tent. She could feel the Colonel's eyes on her, watching her. Temperance found herself afraid to look at him, afraid of what she might find there in his eyes. She half expected him to pick up where he'd left off, returning his full attention to her and taking what he wanted.

"I just want to go home," she murmured.

"What home?" Tavington demanded.

When Temperance did not answer him, he stepped forward.

"You're not going to eat? Here give it to me."

Temperance held her plate out to him first, trying to hide the slight tremble that her hand caused the plate to do.

The Colonel snatched it from her so fast that Temperance was sure he probably hadn't noticed her nervousness. She then reached down and scooped up the cup, still full of the alcohol.

Tavington took it from her a little easier. She watched him quickly bring the cup to his mouth and down all of the liquid.

He turned away from her and started towards the tent flap with all of the dishes in hand.

"Remember what I said. The men out there would probably all love to catch you trying to escape. There are men on watch. I've informed them that you may try."

Temperance shivered at the thought. His tent was at the very middle of the camp.

Tavington exited the tent without another word.

Temperance let out a shaky, sob restricted breath. She covered her mouth with her hand and climbed to her feet as a sudden tremor of terror took over her. All of the panic that had been building inside of her sent her pacing to the tent flap and then back to the place she'd been sitting on the ground. She turned quickly, eyes darting frantically over every corner of the tent as if there would be a secret escape hidden somewhere there. When her eyes landed on the colonel's cot, partially made with blankets tossed about, she clenched her jaws tightly. It was rather small. Her thoughts began racing through her mind. Was he going to make her literally sleep on the cot with him all night? Surely he would not be comfortable or content with the amount of room she would take up. The side remark of bed mates seemed like an ominous warning.

Temperance whirled back away from the cot when she realized that he probably wouldn't want her to take up space on his cot the _entire_ night.

She wrapped her unhurt arm around her waist and gripped the sling that covered her injured one.

So this was his plan?

Temperance felt like collapsing on the ground. His plan was to force her to do whatever he wanted until she told where she thought the Howard's were helping the Martins. Could she even be sure that she would be released if she told? Telling was not something she would do. Temperance knew that for sure.

"For the time, place his body in his tent" Tavington's voice sounded muffled from outside the tent.

Temperance stomach lurched at the sound of his voice. Another voice answered him, but Temperance failed to make out the remnants of the conversation about Borden's body due to the panic that once again took control of her.

"I don't care," Tavington snapped.

His voice sounded even closer. Temperance looked around once again. She allowed her eyes to stop on the trunk. Her reflection was portrayed in a small mirror, lying flat against one corner of the map. Temperance reached up, tucking a wavy curl behind her ear as she studied herself. She swallowed hard. The woman before her looked tired. It was something that she should have been accustomed to by now, but was not. Looking in mirrors only reflected her pain. To her, her eyes had long lost their luster. She was no longer the bright eyed girl. She was the girl who was damaged and completely lost. Temperance saw no beauty in her own face. She'd stopped feeling beautiful long ago.

It scared her that she looked as helpless as she felt.

_Helpless_, that was what the Colonel had called her. Miles had called her that many times too. It was true.

Temperance closed her eyes, blocking out her own reflection. She opened them when she remembered how close the Colonel's voice had been to the tent. Memories of his hands and mouth all over her from earlier flashed through her mind, surging raw emotions and panic coursing through her once again.

"No," she murmured under her breath. She clenched her jaws tightly. It wasn't fair. How was it that she was once again facing something that seemed completely out of her control?

Temperance's breath caught in her throat as she noticed something she hadn't noticed lying on the trunk until that very moment. Before she had even allowed herself time to think about it, she snatched the drawing compass from its place lying on top of the spread out map. She slid it into the cloth sling, pressing her fingers against the sharp pointed end before retrieving her hand back.

Temperance felt a surge of courage.

No sooner had she pulled her hand away, Tavington reentered the tent. He stopped momentarilly, eyes meeting hers for a short second.

Temperance thought briefly of pulling the little weapon out and charging toward him, but immediately thought against it. Never in her life had she physically and purposefully hurt someone. The men outside were also sill awake. They were still wandering around in the darkness beyond their tents. Someone could walk in. Then what would she do?

In his hands, the Colonel held a small blanket. Without diverting his gaze from hers, he took a few steps and tossed the blanket to the chair, that was already full of other clothes and cloth material.

Temperance did not back down from his studious gaze, instead meeting him with a gaze she hoped he could not detect fear in. She remained standing between the trunk and his cot, finding a small ounce of comfort in the fact that the sharp compass was hidden in the fold of her sling. She didn't feel quite as helpless, or at least tried to tell herself that she was not, but up standing face to face with Colonel Tavington made it all too difficult.


End file.
